


Sweet William

by LittleMouse



Series: Sweet William [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMouse/pseuds/LittleMouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drusilla, in an effort to return Spike to being her ‘dark prince’, tries to change him<br/>back to the way he was when he was called William the Bloody.  It doesn’t work out quite the<br/>way she expected.   This story is slightly AU as per vampire lore, and Angel is Spike’s Sire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For the first time in the last few months, Spike felt good.

 

Not wonderful, not on top of the world, but good.

 

He’d gone patrolling with the kiddies, who had been so involved in discussing some wonderful dance that was gonna happen at the Bronze tonight that they’d forgotten to take their usual potshots at him. They’d dusted a sweet dozen fledges and he’d gotten to beat the crap out of a tough Craz’narak demon. When they’d gone back to Giles’, the Watcher had somehow come across a few pints of horse blood, which had a richer, deeper flavor than that nasty pig and had been a welcome change from his usual diet. He’d been given more blood to take home, a carton of cigs, and enough cash to get him reasonably drunk later tonight.

 

So life - er, unlife - was good.

 

He didn’t even mind the fact that his current ‘home’ was a dank, musty-smelly old crypt. Fixed it up a bit, hadn’t he? and Clem had some old furniture he was offering him for practically nothing; just had to get a few kittens. Not a problem; one of Lil Bit’s friends had some they were looking to get rid of, and he had strong suspicions that Clem took them home and kept them instead of actually _eating_ the poor lil’ buggers.

 

Not that he cared, of course!

 

He whistled softly to himself as he strolled along, freshly lit cigarette tilted at angle in the corner of his mouth, package of blood and smokes tucked under his arm. Yeah, it was all good; he was out of Harris’ basement, knew he could pound on demons, and he’d snapped out of a brief spell of insanity, where he’d believed that he thought the Slayer was attractive. Relief to get over that last one, really. Didn’t know where his head had been. Slayer was blond and had a pig nose - he’d always preferred dark hair and eyes and classical features. Like his beautiful Drusilla or like...

 

Ahem.

 

Right, so, he had to make plans for the rest of the night. Willy’s was right out; after that last fight, he’d worn out his welcome there for the next few days, and he felt like going to the Bronze about as much as he felt like staking himself. Happily screaming teenagers dancing to Britney Spears didn’t do a lot for him. Perfect place to hustle a few college jocks out of some cash at the pool table, but not someplace he wanted to spend a ‘good’ night in.

 

Maybe he’d just buy himself a couple bottles of Jack Daniels and drink himself into a coma in front of the telly. There was a marathon of that old show ‘Hogan’s Heroes’; he could watch that until he passed out. Nice and relaxin’, that was, drinking himself into oblivion while a familiar show played in front of him. That Hogan was a right clever bloke, too, though he never knew why some of the crazy schemes worked out. Never seemed to happen with his own plans, but it was fun to watch. Yeah, that’s what he’d do.

 

Needed to stop by before toddling over to the market, and stash his blood. Never knew when some idiot cop would be hanging around the liquor store and wantin’ to search the honest customers. They’d be lookin’ for drugs and weapons and the like, but he had no desire to try to explain away sealed plastic bags of horse blood. Took too many brain cells to come up with a story for somethin’ like that.

 

He strolled calmly through the cemetery - when he wasn’t with the Slayer and those humans who practically screamed ‘come eat me!’, the fledges pretty much left him alone. They might be stupid newborns, but even they could smell a Master vampire, and knew to keep their distance. They just couldn’t resist the siren call of Willow and Xander’s delicious heartbeats, that was all. Spike sometimes had a hard time resisting those, as well. Selfish kids, wouldn’t even give him a taste... not like he’d drain them, now that he’d got to know them...

 

He pushed open the door to the crypt and his good mood shattered like glass on the floor.

 

Drusilla was there.

 

Draped over the sarcophagus like some perfect pagan statue, filmy dress drifting around her, long, thick dark curls framing her beautiful face.

 

He sighed.

 

"‘Lo, ducks. What brings you slummin’?"

 

"I’ve come back for you, my dark prince," she said sweetly, sounding a bit more sane than usual.

 

Spike sighed again, stashing the bundle of blood inside a nearby urn. Didn’t want that getting smashed up. "Thought I wasn’t demon enough for you, luv? Said I was going soft, you did."

 

"Yes, going soft. I can fix that, though." She slipped off the tomb, her dress floating like a lace snowdrift after her.

 

"Can you, luv?" he asked distractedly, looking around his crypt in surprise. Where had all these candles come from? There were two huge brass-bound trunks set against one wall - and damn if the crazy bint hadn’t draped his walls in some flowy silk shite. "Done the place up a treat, luv - if I was the Poof, that is."

 

"Now, don’t talk mean about Daddy, sweet one." Drusilla drifted closer, bringing her hands up to cup his face. "Poor Spikey - he’s got sparkly things in his head, that make it ache so badly. Drusilla can fix that right up for you."

 

"Yeah?" She had his attention now. "Can you do that, pet?"

 

"Yes, Miss Edith and the stars have whispered to me just the right pretty words. But what will my prince do for me, if I do that for him?"

 

"What do you _want_ me to do, luv?" he asked suspiciously.

 

"I want my dark prince back," she said, pouting prettily up at him. "No one takes good care of me like my William does."

 

"Uh huh. What happened to that drippy bloke you ran off with?"

 

Drusilla shrugged. "He didn’t know what a lady really needed. He didn’t take care of me or keep watch over me and the nasty, mean ones are always hurting me. But he didn’t mean to - he had a good heart, so I showed it to him."

 

Spike didn’t know if he should cringe or snicker. That was so very like Drusilla - always ripping the fellows’ hearts out, emotionally or literally. "Couldn’t stay ‘round here, pet, if you do fix me up. Slayer wouldn’t like it; don’t really feel like gettin’ staked."

 

"Oh, no, sweet William. I have the loveliest hidey-hole all ready for us. I just need my prince - and I brought you pressies! Just the things you used to like!" She pointed toward the gleaming trunks.

 

"Oh, yeah? What’d ya bring me?" Spike was immediately distracted at the thought of loot. He took a step toward the trunks, and Drusilla took that as being a resounding ‘yes!’ to her offer.

 

Before he could take another step, she had flicked her hand toward his head, sending a spiral of dark magic into him that slammed him straight to the floor.

 

Ignoring the groan of pain, and the fact that her ‘prince’ was now struggling to free himself from invisible bonds, Drusilla began to move around him, adjusting candles in an arcane pattern, using sand in thin lines to trace runes on the floor. She brought out a small copper burner, a tiny fire already burning in it, and filled it with herbs and oil that immediately began to produce billows of choking, heavily scented smoke. All the while she was muttering under her breath, odd words in a language Spike didn’t understand, interspersed with phrases in English.

 

"...be like you used to be..."

 

"...love me and take care of me..."

 

"...my sweet, sweet prince..."

 

"...return him to me as he was, when his eyes opened..."

 

Spike slowly stopped his struggling, as his limbs began to feel heavy and weak. The room seemed to be spinning around him; it made him dizzy so he tried to close his eyes and found his eyelids weren’t obeying him. "Dru... Dru..." he whispered, the sound so faint it almost didn’t exist. "Dru... princess... what are you doing...?"

 

"Sweet prince, my sweetest of all..." Drusilla crooned. "My wonderful William, William the Bloody, sweet William - I call you back to me, as you were..." She crowed in delight when Spike’s features began to change, his slicked-back, platinum blond hair growing longer, its color darkening, his hard, sharp features softening a little, as if he was gaining back some of the innocence stolen from him. His icy blue eyes even seemed to shift color, just faintly, until they were more the blue of a summer sky.

 

"Yes! My William! Just like when you danced at Daddy’s side, and all the pretty red blood flowed..." She leapt to her feet, face glowing with happiness, and reached out for him.

 

Her hand froze when the changes continued; the dark, honey-blond hair grew even longer, hard expression smoothing, melting completely into a wide-eyed look that she remembered from the fledge that she’d been so horribly jealous of, when Angelus called him ‘Sweet William’ and he stole her place in Daddy’s arms. "No! No, no, no, too far! Too much!"

 

She swept out an arm, knocking a candlestick over. The lit taper tumbled to the floor, catching the edge of her dress. Old lace went up like paper, swallowing her in flames before she even realized what was happening. She screamed, flailing wildly, only managing to stir the flames higher, as they caught at her hair and her skin.

 

Spike watched her, unable to move, blue eyes now the color of a storm-tossed ocean going impossibly wide with horror. His princess was burning, and he couldn’t save her - couldn’t lift even his smallest finger, couldn’t stir an inch. He could only watch as she screamed and ran and burned brighter until she was out of his view.

 

Then there was only silence, and the faint, lingering scent of ash.

 

 

*

 

 

It was hours before he felt strength returning to him, before he was able to stir, to push himself up on an elbow and look around. Everything seemed - different somehow, strange and new. The colors were brighter, sounds were sharper, scents nearly overwhelmed him.

 

"I feel like a fledgling..." he whispered, his voice soft, the Cockney fading from his accent into the tones of a genteel, upper-class Victorian. He noticed, but it didn’t matter. He pushed himself up further, until he was almost sitting, eyes wandering around the musty stone room. He saw the soft grey ashes that were all that remained of his lovely Drusilla, but - but he felt little grief. It was like he knew - he remembered all of that, of Angelus and Darla and the dancing girl with the insane chatter and knowing eyes - he remembered his turning and his teaching and the odd mix of pain and pleasure that came from being Angelus’ Most-Favored Childe...

 

...but it was as though he had read it all, memorized it from a book. It seemed distant, removed. Railroad spikes, blood and screams, two pretty girls with a flavor in their veins like no other he’d ever tasted, a leather coat that fluttered in the wind. The name Spike, to hide the hurt of desertion, of never being good enough for anyone to stay.

 

The brilliant, sparking pain of the chip in his head, and the new pretty girl who made fun of him and hurt him when he couldn’t hurt back, and he still felt that it wasn’t fair for her to do so. Flashes of other faces, a boy who wanted to belong, a boy who fought a monster within, two girls who played with magic... the sharp and ugly burn of Drusilla’s own magic deep inside his head.

 

His hands flew to his skull, and he felt the difference in his hair. Long, heavy locks, waves and curls, a mane that fell nearly to his shoulder blades. Dark blond, if he remembered correctly - it had been so long, but did it matter? There was something caught in it; he pulled it carefully, wincing a bit since it was tangled in those loose curls.

 

Freed, he brought it around in front of him and stared at the tiny bit of silicon and plastic and wire that had made his unlife such a misery. He didn’t understand the magic that had gotten it from inside his head to outside, but he didn’t give a damn. Even if he didn’t feel the anger and the agony clearly any longer, he still flung the little piece of hell as hard as he could, smiling when he heard it hit the far wall.

 

He was free.

 

He was new again.

 

He got up on shaking legs and let the duster drop to the floor behind him, not concerned about it for the first time in decades. He walked past Drusilla’s ashes like they weren’t even there, going to the trunks and opening them, still curious about the ‘gifts’.

 

There were clothes inside, pretty things of silk and leather and velvet. Like he used to wear, only with modern bits added or changed. Weapons, too, axes and swords and a set of spikes made of polished steel. He ran a finger along one of those, shuddering at a memory of a man on the floor, gutted like a fish, with his spine scattered in pieces around him. He shoved the thought away, wincing as his own skin separated on the razor-sharp edge. He put his finger in his mouth, the faint trace of blood making him hungry, and turned his attention to the clothes.

 

He pieced together an outfit quickly, taking a piece from one matching set and trousers from another, until he was pleased with the effect. He had someplace to go, after all, and the viciousness that was Spike and the terror that was William the Bloody had melded together, still there but overpowered by the laughing, mischievous, loving little fledge that Angelus had named ‘Sweet William’ and adored even as he beat the sweetness out of him.

 

But now he was back, and he had a dance to go to. Had some ignorant teens to sip from, not killing them like his Sire always demanded, but enjoying the sweetness of their youth and leaving them to grow older.

 

Besides, he couldn’t wait to see if those children - those ‘Scoobies’ - recognized him.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

He knew this place.

He dredged through his memories and came up with the name ‘The Bronze’. He had remembered that there was a dance here tonight, something special - those children he had spent his time hunting demons with had been very excited about it.

It looked interesting, though he didn’t like the music that was flooding out of the doors. But it was lit with spectacular spinning lights, and the children around him were laughing and screaming and they sounded so happy. So alive.

He drifted through the open doors, not noticing the dozens of eyes that turned to follow his progress, not hearing the way heartbeats sped up in his wake. He looked around for his earlier companions, finding them sitting around a table close to the dance floor, laughing and talking. The blond that he didn’t like, the boy with the dark hair that told good jokes, though William had been careful not to laugh at them. The little red-haired witch and her girlfriend.

And the tall, fresh-faced man in neat civilian clothes that sent icy chills down his spine.

He remembered him better in fatigues.

He’d started to go straight to their table, to drift past it and smile at them and see the reaction that he got, because he knew - exactly how he knew he didn’t know or care - that he looked different than he had. That he looked damn fine before but had a whole different look now.

The soldier’s presence stopped that little plan cold.

He’d have to decide what he wanted to do - he didn’t want to leave; absolutely no way was he leaving, but he didn’t want to get within that man’s reach, either. Logically he knew, with the chip gone, that Riley Finn couldn’t hurt him anymore, but logic didn’t always win in a fight with fear.

He found himself a table in a corner, a small table half-hidden in the shadows. He didn’t sit in a chair, instead he climbed onto the flat surface and folded his legs, leaning an elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, watching the dancers with interest. He remembered dances like these, but it was like he was seeing them with brand-new, easily shocked eyes. Really interesting. Amazing how close two bodies could get without actually having sex. Just pretending to. He might try it later - or he might not.

 

*

 

"Oh, Goddess!" Willow breathed, reaching out to poke her girlfriend. "Tara - Tara - look at him!" She pointed across the room, careful not fling her hands around too obviously.

The shy blond obediently turned to look. She and Willow might be together, but it didn’t stop them from admiring any pretty men who happened to come along.

And this one was worth admiring. Slender and lithe, small but with long, long legs encased in low-riding, soft, tight black leather. He wore low-heeled, slim black boots, and an embroidered, velvety-looking vest that fitted so closely it had to have been made just for him. It was a deep, rich sapphire blue, and even from this distance they could tell that it matched his eyes. His hair was a beautiful shade of dark blond, long and curling like the hero in a historical romance, disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it but that only added to his gorgeousness. His arms were bare, his skin alabaster pale. He had the lean, defined muscles of a swimmer or a runner; and he seemed entirely oblivious to the crowd of people that were edging closer and closer to his table.

"Who’s that?" Xander asked curiously, having followed Willow’s pointing finger along with Tara. "Don’t think I’ve ever seen him around here before."

Buffy turned to look, gaped for a second, and then was on her feet. "That’s a vamp," she hissed, reaching out and snatching the dinky little purse that held Mr Pointy.

"Awww, why do all the really cute guys have to be vampires?" Willow whined, making Tara giggle and Xander protest. Buffy ignored them, stalking toward the table and the beautiful vampire who was engrossed in watching the dancers. Halfway there, his head came up, and he looked around wildly. Blue, blue eyes settled on her and widened, then the vamp was up and off and slipping through the crowd faster than she could follow. She swore under her breath, pushing at the milling teenagers, already too late to catch him.

"I think it got away," Riley said, just behind her as usual.

"Yeah, guess so. We’d better watch out for him, though - I could tell he was strong, and he was smart enough not to be snacking on people."

"We’ll keep our eyes open," Riley agreed, "and I’ll have the men keep a sharp lookout, too. He won’t last long."

 

*

 

William circled the building and came in the back door, watching from a shadowy corner as the Slayer and the Soldier returned to their table. So much for teasing them tonight; he’d forgotten that the Slayer’s senses would tell her what he was. Good thing his own senses had kicked in, letting him know she was approaching. It wasn’t wise to be so off guard - he wouldn’t let it happen again.

He chose to go upstairs this time, on the balcony out of their sight unless they looked up. That idea hadn’t occurred to them yet, apparently, though they continued to scan the dance floor. If his vague memories were correct, he used to be the one who kept an eye on the balcony, the rare times that he was here with them.

Silly children. He would have chastised himself for not training them better, but then he remembered that he didn’t like them and they hated him. Well, all but the boy. They’d begun to get along - very, very slightly. Not enough for him to want to go and introduce himself, now. If he told them who he was and that the chip was gone, he could kiss his unlife goodbye.

"Hi," a voice said, interrupting his musing.

He turned to see a rather pretty teenaged girl, who obviously thought herself much prettier than she actually was. She was dressed in expensive, revealing clothes and her blonde hair screamed that a professional had spent hours on it.

"Hello," he replied, turning to face her. His senses flared, taking her in. She smelled clean, and warm; her hair, even if it wasn’t supposed to be that color, gleamed in the flashing lights. She was looking at him with an expression that was frankly greedy, and he smiled.

Looked like the first installment of his dinner had arrived.

 

 

*****((One Week Later))*****

 

 

Angel sat up in bed, jolted out of his sleep by a eerie feeling in the back of his brain. He shuddered, wondering what was going on. Something was happening - he knew it - he just had to concentrate.

He sat there thoughtfully for a moment, then his eyes widened and he flung back the covers, leaping out of bed. It was about midday, but the curtains in the Hyperion were always securely closed. He’d be perfectly safe.

He only hoped Cordelia or Wesley was here.

Someone had to drive him to Sunnydale - now.

 

*

 

William shivered, staring around the cold crypt with worried eyes.

He hoped this worked. He’d spent a long time on it, and it looked good to him, but you never knew...

He stepped forward and rearranged a fold of the leather duster laying over one of the urns. It looked as if it had been casually tossed aside; he kept fiddling with it, though, and hoped it wasn’t going to look like the prop it was.

The whole crypt had been trashed - Drusilla’s silk tapestries and the brass-bound trunks, along with the very few personal possessions he’d managed to keep over the years, were tucked safely away in his new hiding place. So were the wealth of candles and the admittedly lovely candlesticks she’d brought.

The ratty, broken-down chair and couch he’d managed to find were now reduced to little more than fluff and kindling. His telly lay on its side, the front smashed in. The metal stand was bent and tossed in a corner. The few cheap rugs were wadded and thrown around like feet had kicked them aside. The crowning touch was the wooden stake carefully placed in Drusilla’s ashes, a few of the grey flakes sifted over top of it.

And the little metal chip that he’d half-buried at one end.

He knew that his grace period was pretty much up - they would come looking for Spike soon. If they didn’t need him for muscle, they’d be making sure he wasn’t plotting some mayhem or planning another attempt to remove the same chip that was now in his Princess’ dust. If he had done a good enough job, they would think it was him lying there, and he’d be that much safer. He’d be able to leave, to start afresh somewhere else.

‘To find Sire,’ an insidious little voice in his brain whispered.

"No!" he said aloud, "can’t find Sire. Doesn’t want me. Has a soul now, must remember that." He tightened his arms a little, his grip becoming more of a comforting self-hug than an attempt to warm his bare arms. One hand slipped up, almost against his will, to touch the faint scar of his turning. Realizing what he was doing, he jerked the rebellious hand away. One last quick glance around the crypt, then he turned on his heel and left it for the last time.

He was hungry.

Time to go find dinner.

 

*

 

Buffy sighed. "How many does this make?" she asked, staring at the girl sitting in front of them.

"Seventeen," Willow replied, scribbling in a notebook. "She makes seventeen."

"This is insane," Giles muttered, tilting the girl’s head to get a better look at the neat red bite mark that marred her throat. "They’re just letting this vampire do this to them."

"From the description, it’s that pretty vamp that we saw at the dance last week. You remember him, Buffy?" Willow asked. "He was sitting on the table, and you and Riley scared him away? All the descriptions match him, just the clothes are different."

"It’s so weird. He’d not killing them - are they thralled?"

Giles shook his head. "Not exactly. I’m not sure what it is. It seems to fade after an hour or so, and they’re back to normal."

"Almost normal," Xander corrected, dropping into the last chair. "I found a couple of the other ‘victims’ here tonight - they’re all looking for their vampire. They want him to bite them again - keep going on and on about what a ‘rush’ it is. Sick."

"No, it isn’t," a familiar voice said, making them all jerk around.

"Angel!" Buffy chirped, jumping up and diving in for a hug.

The dark vampire’s return hug was stiff and formal. "Buffy. Giles, Xander, Willow," he nodded politely to the others. "You know Cordelia, of course. And Wesley. This is Gunn," he gestured to the tall, dark man beside him.

"A pleasure, I’m sure," Giles said doubtfully. "What brings you to Sunnydale?"

"Angel does," Cordelia sighed, giving Wesley a smile as he brought her a chair. "Something about a kid."

"A Childe," Angel corrected patiently. "Has anything - unusual - been going on here?"

"Beyond the regular Hellmouth weirdness?" Xander snarked. "Just that." He pointed to the still-dazed, smiling girl next to Giles.

"And what is ‘that’?" Wesley asked curiously, leaning forward.

"A vampire-bite victim," Buffy said, tugging on Angel’s arm until he retrieved his own seat and sat next to her. "We keep finding them. It’s been going on for a week. They say a beautiful man is nice to them, dances with them, makes out with them, and then they find the bite mark later. And they want him to do it all over again. He doesn’t kill them - he doesn’t even take much blood. And they like it!"

Angel didn’t even look slightly surprised. "How many of these victims have you found?"

"Seventeen," Willow repeated, "mostly teenagers. All of them in clubs. There could be more that we’ve missed."

"No, that sounds about right," Angel said, mystifying them. "Tell me, have you seen increased vampire activity?"

"Not exactly, that’s the other weird thing," Buffy said, frowning hard. "There are more minions running around than we’ve ever seen, but they’re not biting anyone. It’s almost like they’re looking for something."

"Someone," Angel corrected.

"What do you mean?" Xander asked.

"Do you know what’s going on?" Giles demanded.

"You have Masters in your town," Angel replied calmly. "But they’re not here for the Hellmouth, or to challenge the Slayer."

"Why else would they be here?" Giles looked worried and confused.

"Because they want him. Your mysterious nibbling vampire. Congratulations, Giles - you’ve got an un-Claimed Childe running around your little town. It’s calling out to every Master in a thousand-mile radius - and they’re not going to leave until someone owns him."


	3. Chapter 3

"We’ve got a what?" Buffy asked blankly.

"A Childe. An un-Claimed Childe of a Master. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

"Masters don’t leave their Childer unclaimed," Giles and Wesley said at the exact same time.

"That’s what I mean by rare," the vampire said, nodding, "no Master leaves a Childe without a Claiming mark. Not unless they die before they can claim them. Have you dusted a Master vampire lately?" The last question was directed at Buffy.

She shook her head. "No, nothing but fledges. We haven’t heard any rumors, either. I’ve asked around. Willy, you know?"

Angel nodded. "What about Spike? Does he know anything?"

"We haven’t seen Spike in a few days." Buffy sat up sharply, eyes flying wide open. "You don’t think  _he’s_  the one who turned him?!"

"How?" Angel asked calmly.

"Oh - right. Chip." Buffy relaxed back into her seat.

"That’s not to say he won’t know who turned this Childe, or who the Childe  _is._ And, more importantly,  _where_  he is."

"What does it matter?" Xander asked. "I mean, if all these Masters are showing up for this guy, why not just let them take him? Then they leave, and all our troubles are over until next week’s crises."

"It’s not that easy," Angel said, shaking his head. "The last time there was a Childe like this, un-Claimed... Giles, Wesley, you know about the Vampire Wars in Italy in 1764?"

Wesley nodded. "They lasted for almost sixty years. One of the bloodiest moments in history, even if it’s not listed in the ‘real’ history books. Hundreds of thousands of vampires and people died... Oh, goodness, are you saying it was all over an un-Claimed Childe?"

"Yes. Her name was Marka; she was turned by one of the Tepes Masters, but he was staked by a rival while he waited for her to rise. He’d hidden her in an abandoned monastery - when she woke, she started feeding from people like this Childe is. Just sipping from a few different children every night."

"Why didn’t she drain them? Why isn’t  _he_  draining them?" Giles asked.

Angel sighed. "It’s amazing how little Watchers actually know about Childer. Newborns - and they’re counted as newborns for, at the very least, five years - feed almost exclusively on Sire’s blood. If they can’t get that, they ‘sip’ from different sources, because more than a few mouthfuls of blood from the same source makes them extremely ill. Besides, unlike Minions, when Childer first rise, they aren’t - they aren’t vicious." He paused at the disbelieving looks, then shrugged.

"Believe me or don’t believe me. It’s the Sire who teaches them viciousness. They have a sort of bloodlust, true, but its easily satisfied. Anyway, like Wesley said, the wars lasted for nearly sixty years. Marka was forced to drink human blood all through it; by the time a Master finally won the right to offer himself as her Sire, it was too late. She was crazier than Drusilla could ever hope to be, and all the Sire’s blood they could feed her didn’t change that. Vampires  _need_ the connection with their Sire. Otherwise, the demon goes insane."

Wesley and Giles both opened their mouths when Angel paused, but Xander beat them to asking a question. "Why do the Masters want him? What’s so special about some other Master’s Childe?"

"Power."

"Come again?" Gunn asked his first question.

"Power. It takes a lot out of a Sire, making a Childe. Minions, they’re easy. Give them a little blood, and walk away. Childer - they take magic. Don’t ask me exactly how it works; I can’t and won’t tell you. But a Sire has to have some real _power_  stored up inside to make a true Childe. They really give a piece of themselves to make a Childe - to change their bodies yet keep their memories and personalities intact. That’s the basis for a normal Sire-Childe bond; it’s also why it takes Childer longer to rise. They go through more changes. Anyway, if a Master can claim another Master’s Childe, they steal that power, that ‘piece’ from them. Also, since a vampire won’t waste time on turning just anyone into their Childe, they also end up with a beautiful plaything. Marka was stunning, and I’m sure this Childe is nothing to cringe over."

"He’s  _gorgeous_ ," Willow giggled, sharing a look with Buffy.

"Yeah, I gotta admit, he’s hot stuff. But we can just stake him, right? I mean, pretty and all, he’s still a vamp. And if he’s dust, all the Masters’ll go away, right?"

"Yes," Angel said reluctantly. "If he’s gone, they’ll leave. They might have a fight over the Hellmouth first, just to make up for the trouble of coming here, but it won’t last long. Especially if we tell them ‘Angelus’ is here, too."

"Good!" Buffy smiled at the whole table. "Then the only problem is finding him. Riley’s helping. We’re looking. Angel’s here. Let’s go get Spike, and make him spill his guts."

 

*

 

William sighed softly, pausing as he perched on a tombstone. He’d fed, though for the last two days, the blood of those humans was making his stomach ache. In an attempt to ignore that fact, he’d gone to the cemetery to play a game he and Drusilla had shared, back when he’d first been a fledge and she’d gotten over some of her jealousy at having to share Angelus’ attention with him. They’d gone into cemeteries to play ‘chase’ on the tombstones, leaping from one monument to the next. He’d always been good at it, and it was fun to see how long he could keep his balance -

\- but this wasn’t as much fun as playing with his Sister. She may have been insane, may have hurt him terribly when he’d been Spike and he’d barely reacted to her death, but now he found himself missing her more and more. He didn’t like being alone.

Voices startled him, and he immediately slipped down behind the tombstone, peering around it at the humans who had invaded his playground. His eyes narrowed, his head tilting to one side.

Words came through the air to him, in a voice that made him shudder and stare.

"Why are we in a cemetery? I thought Spike was staying with you, Giles?"

"He ...er, he stayed with me for a while, then with Xander. He... he decided he wanted his own place, and he chose an, er, crypt here."

"My Childe has been living in a crypt?!"

‘ _Sire! That’s Sire,_ my _Sire..._ ’ William tightened his grip on the tombstone until he felt the granite crumbling under his fingers, trying to keep from just flinging himself at the huge vampire. His demon was shrieking with joy, but he knew he wouldn’t get a happy welcome if he went flying over to the being who was supposed to mean safety and comfort to him. He’d probably get a stake.

"What do you care where Spike’s living?" The Slayer asked casually, reaching his old crypt and calmly kicking the door open. "Spike! Where are you? Get your useless, undead ass out here!"

William frowned, puzzled, as a subsonic growl echoed the Slayer’s words. He knew the humans couldn’t hear it, but it was plain to him. Why was his Sire angry over what she had said? He’d proven over and over that he didn’t care what happened to him.

He watched while one of the humans, a tall, dark man that he didn’t know, flicked on a powerful flashlight and they all went into the crypt. He got up and moved a little closer, taking refuge behind a statue of the Virgin Mary, her flowing gown giving him effective cover. A rustle behind him made him glance over his shoulder.

A Minion was staring at him from about twenty yards away, eyes wide. William frowned, then looked away. He knew he was stronger than the other vampire, and it certainly wasn’t acting threatening. He’d hear it if it moved closer; for now it was of no importance.

What  _was_  important was the inhuman howl of grief and rage that was echoing out of his crypt. It went on and on, causing the Minion to flee, causing some far-off demons and fledges to scatter. It caused William to wind his arms around the statue’s waist and hang on tight, blue eyes huge.

His Sire was mourning.

Mourning  _him_... or Drusilla?

His demon informed him that it didn’t matter; his duty was to go to his Sire and offer comfort, even if comfort meant allowing Angelus to rip his throat out as he mourned. Terrified, but obeying overpowering instinct, he forced himself to let go of the statue and take a halting step toward his crypt.

He stopped when the humans came flying out the door, some brandishing weapons while others just cowered. Even the Slayer looked wide-eyed and frightened.

The reason was plain; the huge figure that followed them out was in full game-face, amber eyes glowing in the half-light of the moon. Angel wasn’t howling any longer, but he was growling audibly, rage evident in every line of his body. Blood tears were streaming down his face.

Spike’s duster was held tightly in one hand.

‘ _He_   **is** _crying for me_...’ William thought wonderingly, taking another tiny step forward.

A new voice made him pause.

"Angelus! Is that really you?" It was a slow, indifferent drawl.

William turned to see who was speaking, and his blue eyes narrowed. He knew that vampire - someone Spike had met? Yes, a git who called himself ‘The Destroyer.’ Harrovian clan, if his memories were correct. A pompous, stuffy, full-of-himself Master that he’d hated as soon as he’d met him.

Angel swung his head around, glowering at the intruder. He didn’t speak.

"Are you here for the Childe?" What was his real name - Ian, right - Ian asked. "Where is he?"

There was no reply. Angel’s amber eyes didn’t waver.

"One of my Minions saw him here, so don’t try to play dumb," Ian demanded. "I want him - you’ve a soul now, right? You have no use for him. Where have you hidden him? Give him to me."

More soft rustles distracted William; he turned to find himself surrounded by Minions.

"We mean you no harm," one whispered respectfully, "our Master offers you his protection."

"Is that  _Spike’s_  coat?" Ian’s sudden laugh stopped any reply William might have given. He turned back as Angel growled again.

"If it is?" the voice was heavy with Angelus’ Irish brogue, but his Sire still had that faint, bittersweet scent of a soul clinging to him.

"If he’s not wearing it, he must be dust," Ian laughed again. "My condolences - such a  _lovely_  Childe. Oh, dear, I forgot, you abandoned him. It was too bad he wore your Claim still, I would have  _loved_  to take him over."

William snarled softly, ignoring the Minions as they stepped closer. That ponce, taking over for his beautiful Sire? The moron wore a  _cape_ , and his black hair was slicked back in a poor impression of Bela Lugosi’s Dracula. He remembered laughing his head off the first time he’d seen him.

"You aren’t good enough for him to wipe his feet on," Angel’s answer made William blink. "My Boy was perfect; you’ve no right to even speak of him."

Ian stared, then seemed to realize the dangerous overtones to Angel’s words and adroitly changed the subject. "This is beside the point," he said, waving a negligent hand. "I said I was here for the Childe. Where is he?"

Angel turned to Wesley, holding out the duster. "Keep this safe," he said softly, and Wesley nodded, taking the precious piece of leather from him.

Angel turned his attention back to Ian. "I will not allow you to take any Childe. You cannot even keep your own,  _if_  you manage to Turn them without them going insane."

"Milord," a Minion spoke almost next to William’s elbow. "Milord, please, they will fight if they do not see you."

"Fight if they do," William whispered softly, but he didn’t hesitate when he was urged forward. He was nearly overwhelmed with the desire to get to his Sire; his Sire who was  _defending_  him when he thought Angel hated him!

The two Master vampires had started circling each other, the humans moving until their backs were safely to the crypt, but everyone stilled when the Minions came into sight. All eyes were on the slight figure in the middle of the ring of lesser vampires.

William had instinctively bowed his head as he approached the Masters, showing that, for now, he was submissive. He was more than happy when his heavy mane of curls slipped forward to hide his face. Maybe if his Sire Claimed him before he realized just who he was, he would be allowed to stay?

All the others could see was that curtain of dark blond hair; a small, lithe form clad in jeans that were worn almost white, the material so thin at the knee - and some other, more interesting spots - that they were sure they could see the soft gleam of pale skin. The waistband rode low on slim hips, the material clinging tightly to his long, lean thighs, the hems dragging the ground around his feet. Bare toes peeked from under the puddled denim. A silver chain belt did little to hold the jeans up. The Childe was also wearing a sleeveless mock-turtleneck made of dark grey suede. It clung lovingly to his torso, ending just above the tiny dimple of his bellybutton. The lean, strong muscles of his arms and chest were thrown into strong relief, along with washboard abs. Even if they couldn’t see his face, it was easy to tell he was beautiful.

Angel frowned, lifted his head and scented the air. This lovely Childe smelled - familiar. He wondered suddenly if Drusilla might be the one responsible for Turning him. It would be just like her to make a Childe and then abandon him before he rose.

"Master," one of the Minions spoke respectfully to Ian. "We have found the Childe you seek."

Ian took a confident step forward but paused when Angel growled. His lips tightened at the unspoken threat, but he didn’t try to move closer. "Childe," he spoke instead, "I am Ian the Destroyer, High Master of the Harrovian clan. I offer you my protection, and a place at my feet as an honored Childe of the Blood." He held out his hand. "Come to me, little Childe, and I will keep you safe."

William shifted restlessly, his hands sliding up to fold around his ribs in another comforting hug. He turned his head ever-so-slightly toward Angel.

The tall vampire immediately took his cue. "I am Angelus of Aurelius, Childe, and I offer you my protection." He ignored the gasps of surprise - and outrage - from the humans behind him.

"Will you choose one of us as your Sire, or shall we choose for you?" Ian pressed, callously ignoring the fact that the Childe was frightened. He wanted this pretty little one.

William shifted again, raising his head enough to show them the slightest glimpse of vivid blue eyes.

Angel pulled in a deep breath, memories beginning to stir in his head. He opened his mouth to speak -

\- then the Minion standing to the Childe’s left exploded in a cloud of dust.

Buffy, still holding the stake she’d used to kill it, lunged at the Childe.

Taken by surprise, it was only his years of experience - years a fledgling Childe shouldn’t have had - that saved William. He moved just quickly enough for the stake to plunge through his shoulder instead of his heart. He screamed in pain, and both of the Masters cried out and moved forward.

Buffy yanked the stake out and lifted it for another blow.

The force of the strike had sent William to his knees, one slim hand clutching a bloody shoulder. He lifted his head, and for the first time they saw his face clearly. No shadows, no concealing hair, no dizzying, flashing dance-floor lights.

Just a young face, with huge blue eyes surrounded by thick, curling lashes, razor-sharp cheekbones, a soft and sensual mouth. The years he’d lived hadn’t added lines to Spike’s face, but they had given him a hard expression that made him look older. That was gone now, leaving him very young and innocent.

"...Spike?" Buffy asked, confused.

"William..." Angel choked, staring at the boy wildly.

"What’s going on here?" Ian snapped, and those were the words that shocked William out of his daze. He leapt to his feet, taking in the stunned, broken expression on Angel’s face and instantly interpreting it as rejection. He made a choked, pained noise...

...then turned and ran.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Angel stood in the far corner of Giles’ living room, staring blankly toward the covered window. He’d been there ever since they’d come back last night, after he’d spent every available minute - once he pounded Ian, who wouldn’t just let him leave, into the ground - searching for his wounded Childe, until imminent sunrise drove him inside.

The others had spent their time arguing over whether or not that was Spike; if it wasn’t, did Spike have human family here; if it was, how did he look so different; if it wasn’t, whose ashes were in the crypt? The little chip Willow had found buried in the dust just added to their confusion.

"I say it’s not him," Buffy declared, getting up and stalking around the apartment. Angel’s utter stillness was worrying her; she didn’t understand why he was so affected. "Angel - it’s  _not_  him! Spike’s dust; no other vampire around here was chipped! So there’s a Childe running around that looks like Spike’s kid brother! So what? You hated Spike!"

Angel didn’t answer, just kept staring at the window and the fading sunlight peeking around the edge of the curtains. He wondered if he could find a spell in Giles’ books that would make the damn sun set faster? He  _had_  to find his Childe - his William. The scream of agony as that stake tore through his shoulder kept echoing in his ears. He wished he could strangle the little blond girl who was babbling away at him.

"Angel seems to think it  _is_  Spike, not a look-alike, despite the evidence," Giles said condescendingly.

"We found Spike’s  _ashes_ ," Buffy said again. "It’s just wistful thinking. I don’t get why he cares so much?"

"Angel," Wesley said softly, holding out a mug, "drink this. If you’re going to find him, you need your strength."

Angel accepted the mug, nodding his thanks instead of actually speaking. He sipped, then sputtered with surprise. "Human?!"

"You need it. You know you don’t stay as strong with animal blood," Wesley’s voice was still pitched low, trying to keep their conversation private. "Angel, why  _do_  you think it’s Spike?"

"I can sense him," was the soft reply. "I could smell he was familiar; I thought perhaps Drusilla had Turned him. Then I looked in his eyes and it was like our Blood-Bond just slammed open. He’s my William - my fledgling that I Turned in the 1800's. I don’t know how - but he is. He’s mine, and I want him back, Wesley."

The ex-Watcher nodded slowly. "I think I understand. He’s - not going to cause problems, is he? He doesn’t have a soul..."

Golden-brown eyes smiled at him. "No more problems than I cause." It was a carefully guarded secret - even from Cordelia and Gunn - that Angel was nearly Angelus again. Willow’s soul-restoration hadn’t worked out  _quite_  the way everyone thought - she’d managed to do what a hundred years of misery hadn’t, and bonded Angel’s soul to his demon. He was no longer torn and in constant search of redemption - he still helped people who needed it, but it was less for forgiveness and more for ...well, fun. He fed again, though it was on the low-lifes that LA was teeming with. No innocents for him; he didn’t need the guilt. Drug dealers, murderers and rapists didn’t cause him a single qualm. He drank animal blood around Cordelia and Gunn and when he was in Sunnydale, just to keep the peace. No one but Wesley would understand - he was surprised that the Watcher did.

"I can keep him from killing," Angelus whispered softly, "he was never a vicious Childe until I made him into one. I had my reasons for calling him Sweet William. I have to find him, Wesley - he’s hurt and he needs me. Newborn Childer heal very slowly without Sire’s blood."

"We’ll find him," Wesley said, sounding a lot more confident than he really felt. "Drink that, and I’ll get you some more. It’s another hour until sunset - then we’ll start the hunt."

 

*

 

William winced, dabbing at his wounded shoulder with a wet cloth. Something was wrong - the wound should be closed and half-healed by now; instead it was still leaking drops of blood after almost ten hours. He didn’t understand it. Maybe the Slayer’s stake had some spell on it? If it had burned, he would’ve been sure she’d soaked it in holy water. That was normally the only thing that would slow his healing like this. Careful prodding had found only a few wood splinters; occasional pangs told him there were more but they’d work their way out eventually, and they shouldn’t be slowing his healing, either.

He lifted a fleecy white cotton t-shirt he’d found in one of the trunks and shredded it, using the pieces to make a soft pad that he strapped in place just next to his collarbone. The stake hadn’t gone completely through his shoulder, so he didn’t have to worry about the back.

What he  _did_  have to worry about was dinner.

Instinct told him he shouldn’t go out with such a weakness; but he had only taken half his usual amount of blood last night before his stomach had started hurting and he’d taken his little cemetery break. He was  _hungry_ , he wanted to feed.

He wanted to lurk around and try to catch a few more glimpses of his Sire.

He sighed softly. That was just foolishness, but he couldn’t help it. His Sire might not want him, but he longed for Angelus with every fiber of his being. If all he could do was spy on Sire from the shadows, then he was going to do it until he was caught or Sire left.

Wonderful. Now the thought of his Sire leaving without him had tears pricking at his eyes. He was such a nancy-boy. If he was still Spike, he’d probably try to stake himself again.

William shook his head, hard, and got up. Enough of this self-pity, he was hungry and he was going out to find some dinner. He strode over to the trunks and jerked one open, careful not to use his left arm too much. Wouldn’t do to start bleeding and soak through one of the pretty shirts his Sister had brought him.

With that in mind, he chose a loose, flowing shirt much in the style he’d worn when he was human, all wide sleeves and fine button cuffs. It was a dark shade of red, which made it that much the better. Wouldn’t show blood as easily if his wound  _did_  break open again. He snatched up a pair of butter-soft black leather jeans to go with it, pulled them on and considered himself dressed. Ignoring the fact that he’d forgotten to wear shoes for the second night in a row, he slipped to the door of his new lair and peered out into the darkness.

In one of those totally unforseen twists Fate liked to throw at him, William discovered that being forced to stay in Xander Harris’ basement had a good result, after all. If he hadn’t been tossed out of Giles’ when his ‘company’ had come, he would never have noticed the small, run-down suburban home only two houses away from the boy’s. Answering his idle question, Xander had told him it had been for sale ‘practically forever’, and that he used to think it was haunted.

Knowing that the Slayer would automatically expect a new vampire to hide out in a mansion or a deserted warehouse, he’d decided the small, tumble-down house was perfect. He’d jimmied the lock on the basement door and hidden his belongings inside two nights after Drusilla had cast the spell that changed his unlife into its present weird state.

Seeing no Slayers, Masters, Sires or humans in sight, he slid out the door. Keeping to the shadows, he nearly ran down the street until he was close to the Bronze. Familiar hunting grounds, and he was weak from blood loss. He wouldn’t risk going anywhere else - nor would he risk actually going inside. He had a better plan.

He huddled in the shadowy alley across the street from the brightly-lit club, carefully watching the people who went by. He just needed to find someone...

There. That tall, thin bloke who had been so grabby a couple of nights ago, nearly molesting him while he’d fed. There was no way that one would turn him down.

William slipped from the shadows, leaning against the brick wall of the building that made up one side of the alley, tilting his head as the boy approached. "Hello, pet," he purred at him, snickering mentally when the teenager stopped like he’d run into that same brick wall.

"Y-you!" The boy’s face lit up with eagerness. "I - I looked for you!"

"Did you, then?" He held out a slim hand, and the boy immediately grabbed it. "Maybe I was looking for you, too, pet. Want to come here?" He gave the hand a tug, and the boy was instantly wrapped around him, fingers winding in his hair and yanking his face to his throat.

"Please!" It was an urgent whine.

William winced - the teenager had slammed him hard against the building and he felt the pinch of renewed bleeding in his shoulder. Hopefully the makeshift bandage would soak most of it up. He let his features slip into the ridges of the vampire, fangs dropping down and pressing almost gently into the eager throat held out to him.

The boy whimpered in pleasure as he fed, pressing tightly against him. Hands clutched at his shoulders and William winced again, pushing the one digging into his injury away. The first mouthful of blood was beautiful, sending energy flowing through his starved body. The second tasted... off, somehow.

The third made his stomach clench with pain, nearly sending it all back up again. He pulled back, licking the bite soothingly, not swallowing the traces of blood. Something was wrong - he didn’t understand this. The blood should be making him hungrier, not ill.

"Well, now," a rich voice purred, and the teenager was abruptly yanked out of his arms and pushed away. "I think you’ve had enough of him, Childe, you’ll make yourself sick."

William blinked at the vampire standing over him. A Master, and not a silly arse like Ian, either. Dark, powerful and dangerous.

"I am Georges, Master of the Barrow clan. I wish to Claim you, Childe." According to Vampiric Law, Georges was well-aware that he couldn’t just take the Childe without permission, not without being the one who had Turned him. Only a true Sire could demand the right to put a Claim mark on another vampire’s skin. It irked, since the instant he saw him, he just wanted to pull the pretty little thing into his arms and ravage that slim white throat - but he knew he had to obey the Rules. He could - and would - fight any other Master for the right to offer for him, but in the end, it was ultimately the Childe’s decision.

The younger vampire frowned. He’d never even heard of this Georges, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t want anyone to Claim him except his true Sire. If Angelus didn’t want him, he’d just wander around forever like he had been the past week.

Georges could apparently sense his hesitation. He motioned for his hovering Minions to move in closer. "You cannot deny me, Childe. You need Sire’s blood - I can smell the sickness on you already. Drinking from humans will only make you hurt worse and worse." He lifted his head, nostrils flaring slightly. "Are you wounded, Childe? You  _must_  let me Claim you; you will not heal without strong blood, without your Sire feeding you."

"But you are not my Sire," William said softly, edging away. "I only want  _my_  Sire."

"And where is this Sire of yours?" Georges asked calmly, following him. "I see no Master protecting you. I see no Claim mark on your throat. You have been abandoned, little one. Let me take care of you. My clan is old and strong; you will be a GrandChilde of the High Master Yolanda. Petted and protected and loved... let us have you, Childe. You will not regret it." Georges held out his hand enticingly.

"Hey, back off him, dead guy!" A familiar voice said. William jerked around to see Xander Harris watching them, looking half stern and half frightened. "He said ‘no’, so leave him alone."

"Who are you to interfere, human?" Georges asked, looking more curious than angry. He sniffed the air again, then frowned. "You reek of the Slayer. Are you seriously suggesting I should leave this lovely Childe to her tender mercies?"

"No! Spike - uh, if you  _are_  Spike - Angel’s looking for you. He - he wants to take you back to LA with him."

"He... wants me?" William managed to look amazed and hopeful at the same time.

"Yeah. Come on, I’ll take you to him, and you can be all Deadboy-Junior, ‘kay?"

William gave Georges a doubtful look, then took a step toward the boy.

"I think not," the Master vampire said quietly. "Consider what you are doing, little one. If Angelus has Turned you - and I doubt this very much, with that pesky soul he has - then he only seeks to lure you close enough to eliminate you. He is only the Slayer’s cats-paw, Childe. She will not allow you to live."

William swallowed, ducking his head. His hand drifted up to press against his wounded shoulder - it  _had_  been the Slayer who had done that, after all. Had Angelus wanted her to do it?

"It’s not true, Sp... uh, wait it’s... um, William, right? I promise, Angel’s all freaking out over you being hurt and stuff. He didn’t close his eyes all day. I thought he was gonna punch Buffy for hurting you. Weird as it sounds, he won’t let her dust you."

"Do you believe this human, Childe? They cannot be trusted. He only seeks to lure you away from the safety I offer."

William scowled, looking up through the curls that had fallen over his eyes. "Xander doesn’t lie. Not about Slaying." He took another step toward the boy, who was fighting to get the astonished look off his face.

Georges growled and grabbed for him. "You are too foolish to be on your own, Childe. You will come with us until we can convince you..."

"Leave him alone," a strong voice interrupted.

William, who had darted out of Georges’ reach before the Master could grab his arm, made a sharp noise of surprise and stared at the figure looming just beyond Xander.

‘ _Sire!_ ’ his demon shrieked, and he couldn’t keep his face from lighting up with joy. Couldn’t stop his feet from taking several more steps in that direction.

Angelus smiled at that reaction, reaching out his own large hand toward the small vampire. "Come to Sire, Childe," he said softly, and those four words were all it took.

William leapt forward; Georges howled and attacked; Buffy appeared out of nowhere, stake in hand.

Xander found himself grabbing a handful of silk shirt and pulling Spike - William - whoever - to safety, outside the sudden, violent fight taking place in the middle of the street. He was amazed when William let himself be pulled back; even more amazed when the vampire huddled against him, shaking slightly.

Wesley came running, followed closely by Gunn and Giles. Willow, Tara and Cordelia were further back.

"Should we help?" The younger Watcher automatically deferred to the older.

"I don’t think so. We’d probably be killed," Giles replied, staring as Angel kicked the other vampire to the ground, stomping down hard on his chest. Georges snarled and grabbed his leg, twisting him off balance and getting back to his own feet. Buffy was slamming her stake into Minion after Minion; it took them a moment to realize that Ian was suddenly there, too, watching, along with a tall, slender female vampire. That was apparently where all the extra Minions had come from.

Wesley glanced back to where Xander had put an awkward arm around the vampire next to him. "Gunn," he said softly, jerking his head to indicate the two.

Gunn realized what he wanted; both of them moved to guard Angel’s Childe. Their boss and friend had no Minions to do the job for him, but they were better than any he might have had, anyway. They wouldn’t let William - or the surprising guardian he had chosen - be injured or stolen away by the vampires circling the fight. Taking him back to LA might not be the best idea ever, but if it made Angel happy...

And Gunn wasn’t the idiot they seemed to think he was; he knew Angel could  _get_  happy without wanting to pack the world into the proverbial handbasket and send it winging into Hell. The gradual decrease in brooding hours had told him that.

Funny, though - after all the tales of horror he’d heard about Spike and William the Bloody and the Slayer of Slayers - he would have expected him to be a lot bigger.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE   
  
  
  


Five minutes later, Angelus sent one last punch crashing into Georges’ jaw, and the other vampire flew across the alley to land in a heap next to some trash cans. His Minions milled around him, angry that he’d lost the fight but knowing better to interfere between two Masters. Anyway, they still had to watch out for that idiotic Slayer, didn’t they? Dusting them when they were obviously harming no one!

Angelus wiped the blood off his mouth and turned to glare at Ian. "Are you next?" he asked coldly.

The Dracula wanna-be started forward, but a cold, crisp voice stopped him.

"You saw the Childe accept his offer, Ian of Harrovian. You have no right to demand battle here."

Attention turned to the tall vampiress next to Ian. She was easily six feet, possibly more, so slender that she almost looked skeletal. White-blond hair was caught up in an elaborate arrangement on her well-shaped head. Large green eyes flicked from Angelus to William and back again. Otherwise, she didn’t move. Her body was contained in a stillness, a peacefulness, that only very old vampires could achieve.

"Elsa," Angelus said respectfully, inclining his head to the High Master of the Nara-Magi Clan. He hadn’t seen her in over a century, but she could be no one else. She even wore the same kind of long, old-fashioned brown velvet dress she’d worn then, her heavy skirts fluttering in the wind only adding to the eerie stillness of her body.

"Angelus," she replied calmly. "May I speak to your Childe?"

He hesitated, his own eyes going over William, then nodded.

"William of Aurelius," she said softly, taking a single step closer. "Your Sire has offered for you and I will not interfere. I will grant you though, this boon; if you find yourself rejected again, or unhappy, you may come to me, and my Clan will accept you as one of our blood. Even if this spell is not permanent, and you are once more Spike, the Slayer of Slayers, you will find refuge with us - and we do not abandon our own."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and began to walk off into the night. Half of the still-living Minions followed her - as did a few Masters and Childer who appeared from shadowy corners.

Angelus shook his head. He should have known Elsa would never come to a Hellmouth with just Minions. He was very lucky she had reacted the way she did.

He turned back to deal with Ian, who was still glowering and looking as though he wanted to argue.

Elsa’s voice floated back. "Leave that silly Ian to the Slayer, Angelus. Your Childe is bleeding. Tend to him."

Angelus immediately turned his back on the sputtering Harrovian Master and stalked over to the humans grouped around William. They were quick to move out of his way; possibly because his eyes were glowing amber and his fangs were in full evidence. William was the only one who stood his ground, gazing at him like he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

Angelus swept the slender figure into his arms, burying his face in William’s throat and breathing deeply, pulling his Childe’s long-elusive scent into his lungs. "You have a lair, Childe?" he whispered, making sure the humans couldn’t hear him.

William nodded, one hand twisting into his Sire’s expensive silk shirt, determined not to lose his hold on him.

"Good," Angelus could scent the blood hiding under William’s loose shirt. "You tell me where to go, Little One." He gathered him up completely, cradling him in his arms, and started running. His actions were so swift that the humans - even the Slayer - had no chance of following him.

Ian tried; but Angelus had suspected he would and did a neat double-back, laying a scent trail that would lead other vampires around in circles. Once he was sure they couldn’t be followed, he obeyed William’s whispered directions until he was standing in front of the dilapidated house.

He sighed. "I suppose it’s better than that crypt, William, but..."

"It’s good enough," his Childe whispered back, nuzzling against his throat and beginning to purr.

Angelus laughed softly. "Perhaps you’re right - but I think we’ll have something a bit better tomorrow night. Wesley should be opening the mansion back up; I've had it fully repaired and redone.  We’ll stay there until you’re healed. I won’t risk traveling to LA when you’re hurt."

William blinked at him in surprise, even as he reached out to push the basement door open. "It’s only my shoulder."

Angelus turned before his Childe’s slender hand could brush the wooden door. He used his hip to open it, instead. "I won’t risk it. Did you clean the wound, William? Were there splinters?"

"A few," his Childe admitted as he was placed on the makeshift bed he’d made from Drusilla’s silken trappings. "I got most of them out."

"Most of them?" Angelus unbuttoned the silk shirt, pushing it back and frowning at the blood-soaked cotton bandage. "Has it been bleeding all this time?"

"It stopped for a while."

Angelus’ frown deepened, then he eased the shirt completely off. He paused for a moment, admiring the silken sweep of skin that he’d revealed. He’d forgotten his Childe was so pretty - all lean, lithe muscle and moonlight pale. "My beautiful Boy," he whispered, "I don’t know how I ever left you behind."

William smiled at him, a mischievous little smile that he hadn’t seen in over a century. "It must have been insanity, Sire."

Angelus eased the makeshift bandage loose, wincing as it clung to William’s skin. The wound was deep, and nasty, its edges dark. "Sadly, not the temporary kind of insanity."

"You’re not going to brood, are you?" William asked, lifting his good hand to begin playing with the spikes of Angelus’ hair.

His Sire gave him an odd look. "Just how much of Spike is in there?" he teased, leaning closer to gaze into those blue eyes. "Do you know anything about him at all?"

"He’s me, isn’t he?" was the soft response.

"So you... what, you have his memories? You weren’t just yanked out of nineteenth century England?"

"No, thankfully." William snickered at the thought. "I would have panicked. I - it was..." he trailed off, realizing that Angelus didn’t know Drusilla was dead. How was he going to react? He didn’t fool himself into thinking that his Sire hadn’t loved his Sister more. She’d always been his favorite, his masterpiece of cruelty and madness.

"Elsa spoke of a spell. Is that what’s going on, Little One? Is Spike still in there?" Angelus leaned his forehead against William’s, rubbing their noses together slightly.

"I remember it all; like I read it in a book, like looking ‘through a glass, darkly’," William whispered in reply.

"Ah. Wil, whose ashes were in the crypt? Was that really your chip we found?" He seemed surprised when William wiggled away from the fingers that were gently probing the ugly wound, picking out the tiny slivers of wood that his Childe had been unable to reach. He scented fear in the air. "Wil?"

"I’m sorry Sire. I wouldn’t hurt her - I’d never have hurt her for the world, but I couldn’t move and she knocked the candle over and she was burning. I couldn’t help her, I would have, I promise..."

"Who, William?"

"Sister... Drusilla, Sire. I didn’t do it, I promise..." he scrambled further away, wincing when Angelus’ big hand closed on his ankle and prevented him from going any further.

"Those were Drusilla’s ashes?" The deep voice was disturbingly calm.

"Yes, Sire," William whispered.

"And she burned? Why was there a stake? Why was your chip there?"

"I... I..." William swallowed, searching his Sire’s blank face for a clue to his emotions. "I made it seem it was me, Spike, that I... he... had been staked. It was - Drusilla spelled the chip out... I don’t know how..."

"Why did you make it seem it was you, William?" Angelus started pulling him closer, using the grip on that slender ankle. "Were you trying to hide from me?"

"No, Sire! F-from them - the Slayer and her humans - they would stake me if they knew the chip was gone. I didn’t know you were here."

"And my Princess is dead? Why did she cast this spell on you, William?" Angelus stopped pulling him back, tracing some invisible pattern on his instep now.

"She - she said something about m-me taking care of her like I did when I was William the Bloody. She kept saying ‘sweet’ though and I think it affected the spell - I - when she saw me like this - I couldn’t move, Sire, it was like she had chains around me - she was upset and she knocked over the candlestick. She was wearing an old lace dress and it just... it just..."

"Went up like a torch," Angelus finished heavily. "Oh - my poor, mad Drusilla! My little Girl!" He threw his head back and howled in misery, and William obeyed his instincts to crawl closer, making little crooning, whimpering sounds of comfort.

He was unprepared for Angelus’ grabbing him and yanking him into his arms, pulling him impossibly close.

He turned his head, baring his neck, and squeezed his eyes shut. He waited for fangs or claws to tear into him; instead he got a face wet with sticky tears buried in his throat. "This leaves me with only you, William; I do not know where Penn is nor how I could find him. This leaves me with you, Little One, and I will  _never_  let you go again."

William started shaking. His Sire wanted him that much?! He had no idea what to think. He let his hands drift cautiously over the broad back, still making the little comforting noises, until Angelus’ sobs ceased.

Then a wet tongue touched his throat, licking away the tears. Tracing around the faint mark left by his turning.

"You’re still un-Claimed, my Wil," Angelus rumbled. "What  _am_  I thinking?"

William shuddered again when he felt the cool press of fangs against the softness of his throat. A faint ‘pop’ of his skin and the fangs slid in easily. Fingers wound in his hair and pulled his head back gently, exposing his vulnerable throat even further.

He wasn’t about to try and stop him. His demon nearly trilled in joy - finally, Sire was Claiming him! After he’d thought it was never going to happen, that he’d spend his nights forever alone.

Angelus’ strong hands stroked down his chest to his waistband, easily stripping the leather pants off him. William spread his thighs without question, more than ready for what came next. It was going to be hard and fast, but that didn’t matter. There would be time for slow, languid love-making on another night, if his Sire was so inclined. This was about Claiming, about his Sire showing his dominance over the ecstatic vampire demon inside him.

Angelus surprised him by sliding a hand between his legs, two slick fingers probing at him. He smelled his Sire’s blood, knew it was being used as a makeshift lubricant and he groaned. This was new. The first time he’d been Claimed by the Vampire looming over him, it had been unprepared, quick and bloody and over almost before the pain registered.

Apparently the soul had made more changes in his Sire than he had realized.

He wasn’t about to complain.

He just spread his legs even wider, seducing his Sire with his submission. Little purring moans caught in the back of his throat even as his stomach cramped with hunger at the scent of Sire’s blood.

"Soon, Little One. I’ll feed you soon," Angelus crooned at him, not lifting his face from his neck but apparently able to tell how famished he was. He used the fingers he had bitten while William was comforting him to spread blood over his shaft, determined that his Childe would feel as little pain as possible. He was unable to wait to find anything else to use as lubricant, so blood would have to do - it was quite fitting, too. They  _were_  Vampires, after all.

He set his fangs more deeply into that luscious throat even as he thrust into his Childe. William arched up beneath him, gasping and clutching at his shoulders. He smiled ferally against the soft skin, pleased with the tightness clenching him. Easy to tell his boy had been turned a virgin; beyond erotic to know that he’d stay this tight for the rest of eternity.

He started with slow thrusts, but he quickly lost control, slamming hard into his Childe even as he growled against his neck. He felt his demon, so long trapped and pushed back, stir and suddenly snap to attention. Could feel it thrust out phantom arms and snatch the younger demon beneath him, jerking it into an embrace. Wrapping its entire essence around it and glorying in its progeny’s unhesitating submission as the bond of his Claim snapped into place.

"Mine!" he snarled around a mouthful of blood.

"Yours!" his Childe instantly replied, keening in pleasure as his Sire slammed against his prostate.

Angelus pulled his fangs back long enough to slice open his own wrist. He pressed it against William’s mouth. "Drink, Childe, and know the taste of your Sire," he ordered.

The younger vampire instantly latched onto his wrist, drinking hungrily. The pulling sensation shot straight to Angelus’ groin and he howled, coating his Childe’s inner walls with jets of come. Beneath him, William moaned softly and flung his head back, baring his neck again. Angelus whispered, "come now" - then dove down and sank his fangs back into his Claiming mark.

William screamed and obeyed, writhing as he covered their stomachs with cool strands of pearls.

 

*

 

It was almost an hour before either of them stirred.

Angelus eased his fangs out of William’s throat, gently licking the deep bite mark until it began to heal under his ministrations. Satisfied, he turned his attention to his Childe’s wounded shoulder, shifting until he could lick at the dried blood.

William whimpered when he moved - Angelus was still inside of him, and the sensations made when he shifted were very - interesting.

His Sire paused for a moment and grinned at him, then bit into his own tongue and went back to the wound left by Buffy’s stake, coating it with a mixture of Sire’s blood and saliva until it glistened wetly, already starting to pull together and heal.

"You should be all right by tomorrow night," he rumbled softly, moving back to nuzzle his Childe’s ear.

William made a humming sound of agreement, lifting his Sire’s hand and lapping at the blood that had dried on his wrist.

"Hungry?" Angelus asked him, moving to scent his hair, to rub his cheek against William’s forehead.

"A little," his newborn admitted, still chasing every speck of blood he could find on his Sire’s skin.

"Drink, then," Angelus urged, pressing his wrist to his mouth and waiting for the boy’s fangs to pierce him. "I want you strong, Little One. We have tonight for you to rest and feed. Tomorrow night will not be so easy."

William gave him a questioning look as he nursed on his arm, and Angelus grimaced.

"Tomorrow, Childe, we have to explain things to the Slayer."

William groaned. "I think I lost my appetite," he whispered.

"Feed," Angelus growled, giving him a direct order. The growl changed to a pleased purr as his boy quickly obeyed. "I won’t let her hurt you again."

Never again.

He hadn’t liked the way Buffy spoke about Spike while they were in the cemetery, and he wouldn’t forgive the fact that the Scoobies had let his boy try to exist in that gloomy, dusty crypt. And William was much more vulnerable than Spike had been, no matter if his beautiful, rebellious wild-Childe was still lurking somewhere behind those innocent blue eyes.

He wouldn’t let them hurt him. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.

No one hurt what belonged to him.

Not if they wanted to live.

Not even the girl he had once thought he loved.

No one.

And if they tried...

Well, then everyone would know that Angelus walked the earth again - and the soul wouldn’t stop him from protecting his boy if he had leave the world ankle-deep in blood.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Angelus was surprised to discover that the water and electricity in the old house were still connected. Surprised, but relieved - it made cleaning up the next evening that much easier.

"Think the realtor still brings people here," William said when he voiced his amazement. "Still trying to sell the place, I suppose."

"You could have been found," Angelus said slowly, watching as his Childe stuffed the silk cloth they had used for bedding into one of the trunks.

"I didn’t plan on staying here long," William replied absently, then jumped with surprise when his Sire grabbed him, yanking him tight against him.

"Were you going to leave, little William?" Angelus rumbled dangerously. "Were you going to try and escape me?"

"No, Sire - I just - I didn’t think you wanted me..." William replied, his face muffled against Angelus’ chest, since his Sire was holding him so tightly. If he’d been human, the embrace would have hurt.

"Why wouldn’t I want you?" The rumble had become a growl.

"You didn’t before," he whispered, hoping he wasn’t about to get his first punishment from this new Sire.

"And did  _you_  want  _me_?" Angelus asked softly, putting two fingers under his chin and lifting his face. "When you were Spike, did you want your Sire?"

"I always wanted you," William said honestly, "but I would  _never_  have told you so."

Angelus looked stunned. "Do you mean that if I had renewed my Claim on you, you would have accepted it?"

William nodded. "I would have done my absolute best to drive you crazy, but yes."

His Sire hugged him so tightly he heard his ribs creak. "I wanted you, as well, Childe. I was just so sure that you would never accept the soul that I never tried."

"Think we were both actin’ like bloody wankers," William muttered, making Angelus laugh.

"Now,  _that_  was pure Spike," he grinned, ruffling the dark blond curls. "I knew he was still in there. Get dressed, Childe, while I shower - you’ve left me some hot water, I hope?" His little one had managed to sneak out of the bed and take a shower before he woke up.

"Maybe," William replied, looking at him from under thick, golden eyelashes, his lips curving mischievously.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Angelus sighed, then picked up his clothes and left the room.

"You have  _no_  idea!" William called after him, then went back to his packing.

 

*

 

After his shower, Angelus slipped back into the black dress slacks and dark grey silk turtleneck that he’d worn the night before, grimacing slightly. The clothes weren’t actually  _dirty_ , despite the fighting he’d done the night before, but he had always preferred fresh clothes when he could get them. He ran his fingers through his hair - no gel, either, dammit! - and then went back into the basement.

And stared.

William had finished his packing and turned his attention to dressing - he was wearing low-riding pants made of some sleek, black material, so tight they looked like they were painted on, hugging the sweet curves of his ass and thighs, and a high-cut, brief black leather vest that was almost as tight. Shiny silver buckles and buttons fastened it from his ribs to his collarbones. His hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and slim black boots were on his feet. His tummy was almost completely bare, except for the thin silver chains that cris-crossed it, and he looked very much like a wet dream come to life.

"William," his Sire said hoarsely, "are you trying to kill me?"

"No, Sire," was the sweet-toned reply, as William stayed apparently absorbed in choosing between two jackets.

"William... are you trying to make me keep you here tonight?"

"Maybe - is it working?" William asked, giving him another look from under those eyelashes.

Angelus groaned. "Yes... but we  _have_  to go see the Slayer, William. Otherwise, she’ll have all of those humans hunting us down."

"Even yours?"

"I wouldn’t be surprised. Though Wesley would try to throw them off the scent."

"Is he special?" William asked, sounding curious and a tiny bit jealous.

"He’s smart. And he understands us better than any human I’ve ever met. I’ve made him our Steward, though he doesn’t know it yet."

"Of our Order?" William asked, surprised.

"Yes - our Order of two," Angelus said, sighing a little.

"Three, if we can find Penn?" William turned the statement into a question.

"I don’t know, Little One - I don’t know if Penn would ever accept me as his Sire and as Master of the Clan."

"You could ask," William said softly, subtly reminding him that  _he_  would have.

"If we find him, I will," Angelus decided, squaring his shoulders.

"And will you turn your Wesley, later?" William continued his questions.

Angelus stalked over and lifted a long black suede coat from his hands. "Hold out your arms," he commanded, and his Childe immediately obeyed, allowing his Sire to put the coat on him. "Wesley is Blood-Bound to me; he will not age like a normal human. There will not be a question of turning him for a very long time."

"He accepted that?" William blinked in surprise.

"On the condition of Fred being Bound to me, as well, so that she will age with him," Angelus replied, grinning. He fastened the last of the suede coat’s many buttons and stepped back.

"Who is Fred?"

"Winifred Burkle. You’ll like her, Childe, she is a very sweet human girl. Wesley loves her very much, and she him. They are quite pleased at the idea of eternity together."

"And what of your other two humans?" William asked, watching as his Sire shrugged into his own coat.

"The question has not come up... yet."

William nodded, then made a face as his Sire started for the door. "Do we have to go?"

"William..."

"Sorry," William muttered, and moved to follow his Sire. ‘ _Will you push me away for them?_ ’

A big arm settled over his shoulders, pulling him tight against Angelus as they left the house. "I promise, they will not hurt you."

"Yes, Sire." ‘ _But will they take you away from me?_ ’

*

 

It seemed quite normal, to William, that he heard the Slayer before he saw her.

It had often astonished him that the girl was able to sneak up on any demons at all.

"...find them! Who knows what he’s doing to Angel?!"

"I think Angel can take care of himself," an amused voice answered. Wesley, he thought.

"You don’t know Spike!" Buffy protested. "He’s a manipulative little  _liar_ , and he..."

"I’m not  _little_!" William whispered hotly, accepting ‘manipulative’ and ‘liar’ without blinking - then glaring when his Sire chuckled.

"You’re not exactly huge, precious."

"No fair - just because you’re big as a..."

"Angel!" Buffy shrieked, spotting them before he could finish the sentence. William was tempted to clap his hands over his ears - her voice was like daggers piercing his eardrums. Even Angelus winced, and he should have been used to it.

Buffy threw herself at his Sire, who automatically caught her and set her carefully back on her feet, ignoring the hug she was giving him. He smiled at the other humans, who were all gathered around outside the mansion, and smiled again when he realized that every last one of them was staring at William.

Good thing he’d picked that concealing coat for his Childe, or they would have been staring  _and_  drooling!

William’s blue eyes flicked over all of them, then settled on Xander. He grinned at the boy, who stared blankly back at him, his expression screaming, ‘huh?!’

"I see he Claimed you," Giles said, coming up beside William and gazing at the fresh bite mark on his throat. It was only half-hidden by his coat collar.

"Angel!" Buffy sounded reproachful.

"What?" Angelus quirked an eyebrow at her, then reached out and took his Childe’s arm, pulling him away from the curious Watcher and tucking him back against his side. He didn’t trust that man, and he didn’t want him so close to his little one.

"You  _Claimed_  him?!"

"Of course I did. He’s mine. And now all the other Masters will go away," he added as an afterthought.

That didn’t soothe her. "But - but  _why_  Claim him? Some vampire you’ve never met before?"

Angelus blinked at her. "Never met before?! This is William, Buffy - Spike. I turned him in 1851. I think that qualifies as having ‘met’ him before!"

"But, Angel, we decided he couldn’t be Spike - remember? We found Spike’s ashes, and the chip!"

"Your ‘deciding’ isn’t going to change the fact of who he is," Angelus replied, looking distinctly amused. "Do you really think I wouldn’t know my own Childe? Even if he did somehow just look exactly like Spike, his blood would tell me the truth."

"So - you’re saying that’s Spike?"

"Yes."

 "And the ashes were someone else?"

"Yes."

"And the chip was something else?"

Angelus hesitated.

Buffy pulled out a stake. " _Angel_  - is that Spike with no chip?!"

"Put that away," he growled, his eyes flashing gold.

"Not until you answer me! I can’t have Spike running around my town with no chip! He’s evil!"

"He’s not going to cause any trouble, Buffy," Angelus said quietly, "I can promise you that."

"How? He never listened to you before!"

"It’s a bit different, now," Angelus replied, tilting William’s head back and running his fingers over the Claim mark. "He’ll listen to me. Won’t you, Childe?"

"Yes, Sire," William said immediately, ignoring the stake that was less than a yard away, his eyes fixed on Angelus’ brown ones.

"He’s just trying to trick us!" Buffy protested, tightening her grip on the sharp piece of wood. She didn’t like the way Angel was looking at the new vampire; he had  _never_  looked at her like that, even when he’d been making love to her.

That just wasn’t acceptable.

"He’s not trying to trick any of you," Angelus said patiently. "Put the stake away. He won’t cause problems; he’s staying right here beside me until we leave."

"Oh, and  _then_  we get to put up with him?!" she nearly shrieked.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "No, Buffy, because I’ll be taking him with me."

She stared.

William snickered softly, earning himself a grin from his Sire and a glare from the Slayer.

"You’re taking him to LA?!"

"Yes."

"With  _you_?!"

"Yes."

"To live with you?!"

Sigh. "Yes."

"You can’t  _do_  that!"

"Why not?"

"Because..." she trailed off, frowning as she tried to think of a reasonable excuse.

"Buffy? Is there a problem?" A new voice asked, and a tall, broad young man walked up to them.

William had been fighting down the intense desire to laugh at the Slayer - possibly to point and laugh, which would have gotten that stake stuck in him for sure, but it would have been worth it.

Now he went very still, the smile vanishing from his face. He pressed tight against his Sire, one arm snaking around his waist, and shifted to stand slightly in front of Angel, glaring at the new arrival. He sensed his Sire’s confusion, but he didn’t have time to explain.

A snarl clawed its way up out of his throat, and all his attention was focused on the newcomer.

Memories were flooding through him; of white walls and lab coats and tests and scalpels and pain. He shuddered slightly, but he wasn’t worried about himself. Not yet.

But just let Riley Finn make one threatening motion toward his Sire, and William was going to rip. his. throat. out.


	7. Chapter 7

"Who are they?" Riley asked, staring at the two vampires. "Wait - that’s the hostile who was at the Bronze that night! Buffy?! What’s going on?"

"It’s a long story," she grumbled, still not lowering the stake.

"Do you need help?"

"No," Angelus interrupted, "because she’s not going to do anything."

"That’s what you think," she muttered.

"Yes," Angelus said coldly, "that’s what I think. Wesley, is everything in order in the house?"

"Yes," the Englishman nodded. "I had a cleaning crew over earlier; and Gunn and I personally checked the window coverings and the doors. The extras that you wanted are here, too. Everything’s ready for you."

"Good," Angel smiled at him, "the rooms for yourselves and the ladies are sufficient?"

"More than sufficient. You’ve quite an elegant home here, Angel."

"It’s a lot less creepy than it used to be," Cordelia put in.

"Let’s go inside and look around, then, shall we?" Angelus said smoothly. "I’d like to see the changes."

Buffy stared from her former lover to Wesley’s cheerful face, to Cordelia’s calm expression, and then to William, who was a whisper away from game face, still growling softly at Riley.

"Why do you all sound like neighbors at a welcome party?!" she finally shrieked. "Am I the  _only_  one who’s worried about what’s going on here?"

"Nothing’s going on here," Angelus said, pulling William even closer as he strolled up the walkway to the front entrance. "No one is causing trouble except for you."

"I’m not causing trouble!" Buffy screeched, running after him, "I’m just trying to stop trouble before it starts!"

Angelus ignored her, leading his Childe into the house. The formerly dark, gloomy place had been cleaned and was brightly lit, giving it a warmth it had never had before. "Very nice," he commented, looking around at the polished dark wood, then he turned his attention back to Wesley.

"I need to speak to you for a moment. William," he let go of his Childe reluctantly, "why don’t you go into the den? There’s something in there for you, I think?" he gave Wesley a questioning look, and the human nodded.

"All right," William replied, walking away quietly.

Angelus frowned when Buffy, Riley, Xander and the others all followed him, leaving him alone with Wesley and Gunn. He hoped Fred and Cordelia could keep any mayhem to a minimum. He’d have to make this fast.

"I need you to retrieve William’s things," he said quickly, taking out a small notebook and scribbling down the address. "They’re at an abandoned house; in the basement. Two good-sized trunks. I think it would be better if you went during the day - no one would be likely to follow you, and I’m sure William wouldn’t want... others..." he looked toward the room the Scoobies had all vanished into, "...to know where his hideaway was, just in case he was to ever need it again."

"We understand," Wesley said, folding the paper and tucking it into his pocket. "We’ll take care of it."

Gunn nodded.

"Thank you," Angelus said sincerely. "For everything you’ve done."

Wesley smiled and started to reply, only to be interrupted by a whoop of joy from the den. All three of them hurried inside.

They found Xander and William already sitting in front of the wide-screen television, with the brand-new games consol Angelus had asked Wesley to buy set up and ready to go. They were arguing over games - everyone else was staring at them.

"Man, I don’t believe this!" Xander was apparently the one who had ‘whoop!’ed. "This thing costs more than I make in a month! Let’s play this one!" He waved a game at William, who grabbed it.

"All right, all right, just put it in!" the small vampire said, sounding a bit more like Spike than he had earlier. Then he saw his Sire, and Angelus blinked at the brilliant smile he was given.

"You’re such a baby, Xander," Buffy said petulantly, "aren’t you ever going to grow up? And you - if you’re really Spike, you’re like, a hundred years old. Why are you acting like a ten year old?"

"You do look much younger," Giles said in a rather patronizing tone. "Have you regressed any? To a younger state of mind?"

William stared at him, trying to decide if he was being asked a serious question or if that was an insult.

"You  _look_  like you’re about ten years old - and wearing your daddy’s coat," Buffy continued, sneering at him, "that thing is way too big for you."

"It’s made to be loose," William said, trying not to lose his temper.

"How’s the shoulder?" She asked, smirking a little, "all healed up?"

William frowned slightly, and nodded at her, then turned his attention back to the game that was starting on the screen.

"Lay off, Buffy," Xander said, not really paying attention to her, "we’re trying to play a game. Go snark at someone else."

"I’m  _not_  snarking! I just want to know!"

She took a step closer, and Xander found himself shifting slightly to block her from the vampire sitting next to him. He blinked in surprise - Spike didn’t need protecting, at least not by him - and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do to stop an angry Slayer. Maybe keep her busy for the two seconds it would take to knock him out - and since when had he wanted to protect  _Spike_  from  _Buffy_ , anyway? Buffy was his friend!

A quick glance at the vampire made him blink harder.

William was grinning at him, like he knew a secret that Xander didn’t.

Angelus was grinning, too, as he watched them. He moved into the room, stalking past most of the Scoobies like they didn’t exist, and lifted William to his feet. "You can’t be comfortable in that," he said softly, just loud enough for the humans to hear. He was possessed of a sudden wicked desire to show his Childe off; Buffy had scraped harder against his nerves with the comment about the wound she had given him. It was a very un-subtle attempt to make his William look weak and inferior.

The younger vampire gave him a questioning look, then smiled sweetly, blue eyes lighting up with mischief. His slim fingers flicked rapidly over the buttons, then he shrugged halfway out of the open coat. "Where shall I hang it?"

Angelus kept his features bland with the fiercest bit of self-control he’d employed in a long time. It wasn’t easy - he’d never seen so many people doing impressions of fish at once. Every mouth in the room, besides William’s and his own, was hanging open. Not that he blamed them - it wasn’t easy to hang on to his own composure. In the bright lights of the mansion, his Childe looked twice as edible as he had in the dim basement.

It made him want to jump him that much more.

And from the sudden strong scent of arousal in the air, he wasn’t the only one.

"We’ll just lay it on the couch for now," he purred, taking the collar of the coat and using it to slip the black suede completely off his Childe’s strong, slender arms. William shrugged slightly, settling the leather vest back into place, then sat back down beside Xander - who had to forcibly stop himself from gaping at him.

Angelus had to tear his own eyes away from the rather delectable bulge in the front of his William’s pants, cupped so nicely by the clinging black material. He turned his attention from Xander and William to glare hotly at Riley Finn, whose gaze was riveted to the same area.

"You’re the Army boy, aren’t you?" he asked, his voice  _deliberately_  patronizing.

The other man didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

"This is Riley, Angel - I told you about him." Buffy gave him a reproachful look. "He’s been a lot of help with patrol and things."

"Is that so?" Angelus looked Farm Boy up and down, then cooly turned his back. "Wesley - I’ve decided to go back to LA tomorrow night. Can we have everything ready by then?"

"Of course!" Wesley actually sounded relieved. He knew a volatile situation when he saw one; Buffy Summers wasn’t dealing well with Angel’s obvious fascination with William. There was no way she was going to react favorably when she realized Riley’s stare was more carnal than curious.

"Are you leaving so soon?" Giles was not happy. "After the mess your ‘Childe’ has made? You could at least help us clear out all these Masters. You said yourself that they might have a fight over the Hellmouth."

"I also said that I would make sure they knew I was here," Angelus said, walking over to stand behind William, his fingers playing with golden-brown curls.

"And that is going to ensure the safety of Sunnydale?" Giles asked.

"Yeah, it’s not fair that I’m gonna have to do cleanup!" Buffy threw her two-cents worth in. "You really ought to stay and help me!"

"What, the almighty Slayer admits she needs help?" William couldn’t resist the remark, turning and leaning his cheek against Angelus’ strong thigh while he gave her an innocent look from beneath thick eyelashes.

"Don’t push me,  _Spike_ ," Buffy snarled, spitting out the name of his old self like it was a curse. "I’m not in the mood to put up with you, if it is you - no matter how much Angel thinks you’re all different and special! I’m  _not_  going to deal with all these vampires by myself! I have too much to do! There’s school and regular patrol and..."

"We’ll stay a few days," Angelus interrupted her, sighing reluctantly. His fingers didn’t leave William’s soft hair, but he shifted his attention to the boy sitting beside his Childe, playing the game. "It will give Xander longer to get ready, anyway."

It took Xander a moment to realize what the vampire had said, then he paused the game and looked at Angelus, puzzled. "Say what? What do I have to get ready for?"

"For coming to Los Angeles," was the calm reply.

"Huh?" He stared. "What would I go to LA for? I mean - I’m  _not_  going to LA!"

"Of course you’re not," Buffy said, blinking rapidly. "Why would you want  _Xander_  in LA?"

"Because he’ll be staying with us from now on," Angelus replied, smiling down at William, who was watching the boy sputter with wickedly gleeful eyes.

"Staying with  _you_?! I’m not staying with you, Deadboy!" Xander’s own brown eyes were huge, and he started scrambling away from the two vampires.

"You don’t really have much choice," Angelus laughed.

"What’s that supposed to mean?!"

"It means that you’re William’s Guardian, so of course you’ll stay with us."

"His  _what_?!" Giles, Buffy, Willow and Xander shouted the words at the same time.

"His Guardian - chosen by Fate or the Powers or whatever you’d like to call it," Angelus said smoothly, a bit of wickedness creeping into his own smile at the boy’s blatant dismay. "And you’ve no choice - because you’ve already accepted."

"No, I haven’t!" Xander shrieked.

"Haven’t you? Who told Georges to leave my William alone? Who assured him that his Sire  _did_  want him? Who pulled him away from the fight and stood between him and the minions? Who has kept himself between William and the Slayer ever since we came inside, even if he hasn’t realized it?"

Xander was blinking rapidly. "But... that’s choosing?! I didn’t know!"

Angelus shrugged. "Not knowing doesn’t change things. If you think about it, you’ll realize that you  _want_  to take care of him; the need to protect is already there. It’s rare for a human to be a fledgling’s Guardian - usually it’s an older Childe of their Sire - Spike must have really trusted you."

Xander paused, looking slightly less panicked, maybe even a little pleased. "Yeah?"

"Yes. It wouldn’t have happened if  _both_  of you didn’t subconsciously accept it."

"But..." Xander bit his lip, blushing a little, "...but, I can’t really protect him from anything... I mean, I’m just..."

"He’s just  _Xander_ ," Buffy said, laughing. "He’s the one  _we_  protect!"

Xander turned even redder.

"She didn’t mean it that way, Xander," Willow soothed, "but she has a point. I mean, Spike - William - he’s a  _vampire_ , and you’re just human."

Xander nodded, looking down at the floor.

"Yes, it’s best to forget this, if it’s even true," Giles said. "Xander wouldn’t be able to guard William. I’ve never heard of Guardians before, anyway."

William reached the limit of his patience. He jumped to his feet and glared at the Watcher. "What you  _have_  heard of would fit on a matchbook," he spat, "and stop making him feel bad! He’s a perfect Guardian! He can learn to fight - you lot just never bothered to teach him anything!"

"We’ll change that," Angelus said softly, "He’s chosen, and he’s Family."

"I don’t think..." Giles started again.

"Obviously," William snorted, folding his arms and staring pointedly in another direction.

"Okay, I’ve had enough of you!" Buffy snarled, jerking her stake out again as her Watcher was insulted.

Before she could move, a hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

"Don’t," Xander said softly, his voice laced with a determination she’d never heard in it before.

Everyone human in the room stared at him.

William just grinned. He’d known his boy would come through. ****

 


	8. Chapter 8

"Xander,  _what_  do you think you’re doing?" Buffy asked, staring down her nose at him.

It was quite a trick, seeing as how he was a lot taller than her. ****

"I’m not really sure," he sighed, "but I can’t seem to help it. And anyway, Buffster, you shouldn’t be staking someone just ‘cause they say something you don’t like."

"But it’s just Spike!"

"Buffy..." Xander rolled his eyes.

"That’s beside the point!" Willow was near tears. "You can’t take Xander away from us! He’s our friend - he’s been my buddy since kindergarten - he belongs with us, not you!"

"Aw, Wils..." Xander let go of Buffy’s arm, checked quickly to make sure Angel was still beside William, and moved to hug his friend.

"You see? He really should stay here," Giles continued to argue with the vampires.

"Aren’t you being rather selfish?" Wesley put in suddenly. "I mean, the boy lives in his parents’ basement, doesn’t he? While Mr. Giles and Ms. Rosenberg both own their own houses and could easily rent him a room. He works odd jobs because he couldn’t keep the carpentry job he wanted - you told me this, Rupert, the last time we talked. Patrolling was interfering with his work hours. He won’t have that problem in LA."

"He’ll have the whole Hyperion to work on, and I’ll pay him well," Angel said. "He can come on cases with us if he wants, or stay there if he’d rather. We’ll teach him to fight, how to use weapons. I’m shocked you’ve never taught him anything before; it’s dangerous enough to be on the HellMouth fighting demons when you know how to defend yourself - but you’ve never bothered to teach him or Willow any sort of self-defense, have you?"

"Well... er, I have to concentrate mainly on Buffy - I mean, she  _is_  the Slayer, and Xander and Willow have never really been hurt, after all..."

"That’s because Red has her magic, and Xander has a brain, even if he pretends he doesn’t," William said.

"Hey..." Xander said slowly, having his own turn at not being sure about a comment. Was that an insult or a compliment?

William grinned at him as the others kept right on arguing. "C’mon, let’s go upstairs and talk quiet, huh? They’ll go around and around for hours, probably."

"They usually do," Xander sighed, and followed the small vampire out of the room.

Neither looked behind them, so they didn’t notice they were being followed.

 

*

 

William led Xander to the room that he remembered as being his, back when he’d been staying here with his Sire and his Sister, when he’d been trapped in that horrible wheelchair and his world had crumbled around him. He closed his eyes for a second, then shook off the memories and ran forward, tossing himself down on the bed.

"Come here, pet, and talk to me," he said to the boy who was hovering uncertainly in the doorway. "Won’t bite you, I promise."

"I’m not sure I trust you on that," Xander said, grinning slightly, but he came forward, anyway, and tentatively sat on the foot of the bed.

William rolled onto his stomach and propped his chin on his hands. "It’s not going to be bad, Xander, being my Guardian. It’s not, I promise. It might even be fun."

"I can’t help being afraid," Xander said honestly, hunching over slightly, almost like he expected to be hit. "I mean, I really _am_  just human. Even Buffy and Willow call me Donut Boy more than they call me Xander lately. I know they just think they’re teasing, but it’s true. There’s not really anything I can do to help them - or you."

"You just don’t have faith in yourself, pet," William said. "I remember lots of times, when you came up with good ideas for fights or dealing with demons, and they didn’t pay a bit of attention to what you said. You’re loyal, and you’ll fight even when you’re hurt or you don’t have a chance. It may be a bit dumb, but it’s still a fine and rare quality. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, Alexander - brave people are afraid. They just face their fears, while cowards run from them. That’s the difference."

"Since when are you so smart?" Xander asked, giving him an odd look.

"I’ve always been smart," William said, stretching luxuriously and snickering when Xander quickly looked away. "It’s just easier to let people think you’re dumb. They don’t make you do as much. Think Giles would have let me alone if he knew I could do his translations or that I knew what most of the demons were without having to look them up?"

"No, I think he would have locked you in the basement and called you Reference Materiel," Xander said, grinning broadly.

"Exactly! And anyway, pet, it won’t be so hard to be my Guardian once we have a Blood-Bond."

"A  _what_?!" Xander squeaked, a distinctly nervous look settling over his features.

"A Blood-Bond," William said softly, edging a little closer to him. "I’ll give you a bit of my blood - not enough to turn you, and you won’t be about to die, anyway - and you’ll give me a bit of yours. It doesn’t have to be from a bite, you can just make a little nick if you want. It’ll tie us together; other vampires will know you’re under the protection of the Aurelius order. They’ll be able to smell it on you. And you’ll be able to find me easy if you have to. Plus, there are other... perks."

"What other perks?" Xander asked, curious in spite of himself.

"Drinking a Master vampire’s blood makes you... stronger. Faster, more agile. Not as strong as a Slayer, but close. It heightens your senses and your reaction time. It doesn’t give you immortality, but regular exchanges make you age slower."

"How much slower?"

"A  _lot_  slower," William admitted. "You could live to be two hundred and still look like you’re in your twenties."

"Well, that’s um... kinda creepy... and kinda cool." Xander looked caught between interest and the desire to run. "Do I have to do it or can I think it over?"

"You can think it over," William said, creeping a little closer and laying his head on Xander’s thigh, gazing up at him with smiling blue eyes. "I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, pet."

"What are you two doing?" A rather shocked voice asked from the doorway.

Both of them looked up and scowled at Riley Finn.

"Go away, soldier," William spat, openly hostile.

"Riley, you probably shouldn’t be up here, man," Xander said, trying to be nice. "I doubt if Angel would like it."

"He’s still arguing with Giles, Buffy and Willow. They really don’t want you to leave, Xander." Riley ignored the low growling noise coming from William and walked into the room, sitting down beside the boy - and quite close to the small vampire.

"It doesn’t matter what they want," William said, pouting slightly, "Xander belongs to us, now. They didn’t appreciate him when they had him."

Xander flushed again, his fingers coming up to hesitantly stroke the ends of the curls laying on his leg. "They’re still my friends, Spike - Will."

"Yes, but it’s not like we’re taking you to the ends of the earth," William pointed out. "LA is just down the road. It takes, what, an hour? hour and a half? Faster, if I drive," he added, with a grin that was pure Spike.

"Oh, I’m never getting in a car when  _you’re_  driving ever again!" Xander said quickly, yanking carefully on a curl. "You scared ten years off my life that time you drove me to the mall!"

"But I got you there before your movie sold out," William said, still grinning up at him.

"I’ll give you that," Xander conceded.

"Xander, this is beside the point," Riley said, "Buffy’s really upset about this. And Willow and Giles," he added quickly.

"I know that," Xander said, shifting back to miserable. "But they’re not even giving me time to think, and..."

"And this vampire is?" Riley asked cooly, glaring down at William, who promptly gave him a cheeky grin.

"Thinking’s highly overrated," he taunted. "Especially if it’s been trained out of you."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Riley asked, trying to glare - but his eyes slid away from William’s face and down the lithe body stretched out languidly over the plush comforter.

Xander had looked away, trying to get his head in gear to think things over, but some new arcane alarm went off in his head and he turned sharply, trying to figure out what had caused it.

It didn’t take him long - William was frowning at Riley, who was once more staring at the way his pants clung so lovingly to his groin.

"Hey, man!" Xander said hotly, his fingers itching to grab the edge of the comforter and throw it over William, "you got a problem?!"

" _I_ certainly do," a furious voice spoke from the doorway, and all three jerked around to see Angelus standing there, his brown eyes starting to bleed gold.

Xander shifted uncomfortably, wanting to jump in front of William but not sure if being a Guardian included protecting a Childe from an angry Sire.

William sat up slowly, eyes wide. He wasn’t quite sure what his Sire was upset about - maybe Angelus had gotten the wrong idea about the way he’d leaned his head against Xander’s leg?

Riley tore his eyes away from the entrancing vampire and scowled at the bigger one, upset about the interruption.

"You are sitting  _far_  too close to my Childe," Angelus’ voice was becoming a definite growl.

Xander and Riley looked at each other, wondering who he was talking to. Xander had a sinking feeling it was him - seeing as how William had his hands on his shoulders and was edging behind him.

"You’ve hurt him enough in the past," Angelus continued, advancing on them. They could tell now that his glare was focused on Riley.

Xander wasn’t sure whether to sigh in relief or get more tense.

"What are you talking about?" Riley scoffed. "The chip? It was necessary for the safety of the civilians of this town - of the world, for that matter."

"Like I was going to go out and bite everyone in the entire world," William whispered sarcastically in Xander’s ear, making the boy bite back a snicker.

"I wouldn’t put it past you."

"Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side!"

"I think," Angelus’ deep rumble brought their attention back, "that you had more in mind than ‘saving the world’ when you put that chip in his head. Behavior modification of that kind is always more about control than protection. In fact," his expression changed from wrathful to thoughtful, "I believe I read something very similar to your project once - on board a Nazi submarine."

William let go of Xander’s shoulders and started crawling backwards at those words. He slipped off the bed and retreated to the window, an odd sound coming from his throat that sounded like a cross between a growl and a whine.

Xander immediately followed, noticing that the window seat William had retreated to, and was now crouched on, was the point of the room that was the farthest from Riley it was possible to get. He approached the vampire warily, watching as the pretty features began to flicker back and forth between ridges and smooth planes. "Spike? Will? What’s wrong?"

"Was on that sub," William said softly, "wasn’t a good time. Twice... they’ve done it to me  _twice_..."

"Um..." Xander still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch, or if he should touch, or even if - oh, the hell with it, Spike was in bad need of cuddles. He put awkward arms around the strong, slim shoulders and gave him a cautious hug.

And promptly found himself being snuggled.

"Our projects are nothing like  _anything_  the Nazis may have tried to do!" Riley was protesting angrily.

"Oh, you really think so?" Angelus asked. "I have a feeling I could tell you some things word for word."

"That’s utterly impossible!"

William sighed, nuzzling his face into Xander’s shoulder. "How long do you think  _they’ll_  go on?"

"I’d say it’ll be a while," Xander replied, starting to relax a little. Holding a vampire wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be - William was like a worried little kid. "You want to go back downstairs and play the game?"

"No," William said, straightening slightly, "the others will just start in on you again. I’m surprised they aren’t already up here trying to ‘reason’ with you."

"I kind of am, myself," Xander admitted. He fully realized that his friends used logic and guilt to get what they wanted, not always concerned about the person they used it on. He usually overlooked it, but he had a feeling that a worried little vampire hanging onto him was going to give him more courage to resist.

William gave another soft sigh, and pulled away from him slightly. He could feel Xander’s indecision, and he wondered if he should give the boy some space? He didn’t want to pressure his Guardian into choosing him.

He was surprised when Xander let him move away a little, but didn’t take his arm off of his shoulders.

And then he suddenly forgot all about it when the sense of someone watching him shot up his spine. He turned sharply, his gaze automatically going to the window, since he knew that no one in the room was looking at him right now. Sire and the Soldier were glaring at each other, and Xander was watching them with worried eyes.

In the shadows, across the road from the brightly lit mansion, he saw several figures lurking. In the flicker of an eyelash, he was in game face, using his demon’s heightened vision to see who they were.

He frowned, and abruptly broke into Angelus’ continuing argument.

"Sire? Why is Ian outside?"

  


 


	9. Chapter 9

Angelus abruptly abandoned his argument with Riley and nearly ran to the window. He glowered down at the shadowy figure, which stood its ground and stared right back at him. "I should have staked him when I had the chance," he growled.

"Why is he still here?" Xander asked, peering into the dark. His human eyes could barely make out a darker blur against the blackness of the night. "I mean, didn’t that Elsa chick say he had no right to challenge you for Spike since he picked you?"

Angelus, after blinking for a second at the elegant, powerful Elsa being referred to as a ‘chick’, nodded. "He doesn’t have a right to try and Claim William, or to fight me for him. What he  _does_  still have a right to do is to challenge me for the HellMouth. I Claimed the Childe that all the Masters were here for - and there were more than just Ian, Georges, and Elsa - so right now, that makes me default Master of this town. I won."

"Really?" said a curious voice from right behind William’s left ear. He turned sharply to see Giles standing there, gazing at Angelus. "That might make life much easier for us here - can you keep control of the HellMouth?"

"Only if I were to stay here, and I have to go back to LA."

"Isn’t the HellMouth more important than what you do there?" Riley asked, also standing a bit closer to William than he would have liked. Another quick glance showed him that most of the humans - Wesley, Willow, Buffy, Gunn, Cordelia - were crowding around, peering over his or Xander’s shoulders to try to catch a glimpse of the lurking vampire.

When had they all come upstairs?

And more importantly, who the hell was groping him?!

"I save lives in Los Angeles," his Sire growled, "are you saying that isn’t important?"

William took a quick peek over his shoulder, but whoever had their hand on his arse had removed it.

And every face looked perfectly innocent.

"Of course he isn’t," Buffy was quick to jump into the argument, "but wouldn’t you be saving  _more_  lives if you were here to take control? I bet the demonic killings that happen around here would drop by half!"

"But the Powers That Be placed me in LA, not Sunnydale," Angelus reminded her.

"Maybe they’ll change their minds since you’re the Master now!" The blond Slayer said enthusiastically.

William frowned - it was pretty easy to guess why the girl was so eager to have his Sire stay here. She obviously thought she could wind him around her little finger again.

The thought made him frown harder. Could she?

Dammit, there was that hand again!

Oh, never mind. Another quick peek told him it was his Sire’s hand, this time.

Angelus smiled down at him, but answered Buffy. "I don’t know. If they do, I’m sure they’ll inform me somehow before we leave for LA. I’ll take care of Ian tomorrow night - it’s too close to dawn to risk confronting him now."

"Maybe we’ll get lucky, and he’ll get caught outside," Xander grumbled. "Sunrise fricassee."

William snickered. "He’s stupid enough."

"You’ve met him before?" Angelus raised an eyebrow at him.

His fledgling nodded. "When I was still Spike."

Now Angelus was frowning. "That’s right; when he was at the crypt he said something about you being a lovely Childe and he would have loved to... take... you... over..." His words slowed, and his eyes flashed golden.

The hand that had been on William’s backside, gently stroking and fondling, moved up to become a death grip on his waist.

William blinked up at him, wondering what was going on, but Angelus had turned on the humans. "What are you all doing up here?"

"Huh?" Buffy spoke for everyone, even if they didn’t want her to.

"I  _said_ , why are you up here? This is my home, not the Bronze. You don’t have the right to come running upstairs and barge into the bedrooms just because you feel like it." His eyes flickered over their faces, and he quickly amended his words. "It’s different for Wesley, Gunn, and Cordelia. And Fred, if she had come up, because they’re staying here. Xander, of course, was invited by William. Why did the rest of you feel you had the right to invade the private areas of my house?"

William fought the urge to snicker. Giles and Willow looked mildly embarrassed.

Riley and Buffy, however, looked like they’d entered the Best Stunned Expression contest.

He wished he had a camera. He could see Buffy’s tonsils.

Probably because of how far her mouth was hanging open...

"But, Angel," she started, and the whine in her voice was sharp enough to drill through a steel-plated door, "we had to check on Xander, and we weren’t done talking to you and you left, and..."

Angelus gave her a glare that made her shut up instantly.

William studied his face intently, wondering if there was any way he could learn to make that expression. It would certainly be a relief for his poor tattered eardrums if he could.

 

 

*

 

 

"Neither of those are excuses for your behavior," Angelus said coldly, then turned his wrath on Riley. "And as for you - you have no excuse at all to be up here! Xander has never referred to you as a friend, nor you him. I don’t know why you are suddenly so interested in my Childe - well, I don’t know  _all_  the reasons why - but you can forget any little ideas you may have had. Now, it’s nearly dawn. I want to rest, so you can all just take yourselves home. Gunn, would you walk with Xander? Just to make sure he’s safely inside? That way William won’t have to worry about him."

‘ _And the others won’t have as much chance to try and guilt-trip him into staying here,_ ’ he thought, but didn’t say.

He didn’t have to. Gunn understood him, and from the look on their faces, so did Xander and Giles.

The difference was that Xander gave him a grateful half-smile while Giles glared.

"I actually have a few more questions about all this," the Watcher said huffily.

"What else is new?" William muttered under his breath, making Angelus fight off a smile. It was probably a good thing the humans hadn’t heard that - even though it was true, he had no doubt it would start another of those blasted arguments.

"Your questions can wait until later - or possibly Wesley can answer them on your walk home," Angelus said coolly, and looked away pointedly when Giles would have protested.

The Watcher, realizing he wasn’t going to get any further with the vampire tonight, grumbled unhappily and turned to leave.

"Why are you being so mean to us?" Buffy whined, glaring at William as if she knew the answer.

"It’s not ‘being mean’ to request that you act like you have manners," Wesley pointed out, steering them all toward the door and ignoring Buffy’s huff of anger as easily as the others did.

Beside Angelus, his Childe shifted restlessly, recalling his attention to where it needed to be. William, he remembered, had always had far too much energy to ever stand still for very long - it used to annoy Darla - and him, sometimes - but right now, he had a very good idea of how to burn off some of that energy.

He still felt the simmering rage at the remembered gleam in Ian’s eyes when he’d mentioned how he would have ‘loved’ to take over his Claim on Spike - and now, with William’s admission that he remembered meeting Ian before - which meant the other vampire had probably at least tried to talk him into submitting and being what was known as an Neophyte - a convert, calling him Master and joining his clan - under him, if he couldn’t Claim Sire-rights to the slender blond.

A Master could take a Neophyte to bed with no more protest than when a Sire ordered a Childe into their bed.

His demon was roaring with rage at the very thought; and he knew the only way to satisfy it was going to be to a very long - very enjoyable - night of screwing his Childe into the mattress.

He didn’t think William was going to mind.

Angelus watched silently as the humans continued to file out, giving Buffy a glare when she looked like she wanted to stop and talk longer.

He took his Childe’s hand and tugged him out of this bedroom, down the hall toward the master suite. He didn’t wait for all the humans to be out of sight - why should he? He could care less if they knew he was taking his boy to bed with him. It was none of their business.

 

 

*

 

 

William was still a little uncertain of his Sire’s mood as he was yanked into the bedroom and the door slammed behind them. He could smell Angelus’ arousal in the air, but he could also see rage simmering in his Sire’s amber-flecked eyes.

He wasn’t sure what his Sire was angry over, and it leant caution to his movements as he took a step toward the bed.

Angelus turned away briefly, shedding his expensive shirt and laying it neatly across the back of a chair.

Then he spun around, grabbed William, yanked him close and growled, "You are  _mine_!"

The next thing he knew, his Sire’s fangs were buried deep in his throat and William was instantly as hard as steel. He whimpered and pressed close to his Sire’s much larger body, rubbing against him tentatively.

Angelus growled again, and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him so tight and hard against him that he could barely move. One big hand gripped his backside, the other came up and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back for better access to his neck.

William whimpered again - his Sire was apparently intent on showing his dominance, and though he had no idea  _why_ , he also had no objections.

At all.

Angelus made short work of his clothing, stripping him out of vest, shoes and soft trousers so quickly that William barely felt them leave his body. The next thing he knew, he’d been tossed on the bed and his Sire was crawling toward him, having lost the rest of his own clothes, as well.

William purred.

Angelus smirked - and pounced.

William found himself with his thighs spread wide, Angelus’ hips between them, holding them open, while his wrists were grabbed and promptly tied to the wrought-iron headboard with magically-appearing scarves. He arched up, pressing closer to his Sire.

Big hands settled on his hips, pushing him back down, while Angelus snarled, "Be still!"

And then proceeded to devour him.

He started on his left ear, thoroughly memorizing it with teeth and tongue, then worked his way down William’s jaw, paused to explore his mouth, then on to the other ear and down the side of his neck, laving every sensitive spot with long minutes of worship.

William trembled as he tried to obey his Sire’s orders to lie still, his body wanting nothing more than to arch and thrust and press close to the huge body hovering over him. Angelus’ hands were still holding his hips, his pelvis pressed tight against William’s smaller one.

The only other part of his Sire’s body that was touching him was Angelus’ mouth, and it was rapidly driving him insane.

"Siiiire..." he whined, giving up and allowing his hips to push against the big hands, although they didn’t manage to move them. "Please..."

"Hush," Angelus commanded, lifting his head for only a brief second, then his cool, wet mouth slid along William’s collarbone and down to lave at a pretty nipple.

William bit his lip so he wouldn’t mewl; Angelus seemed to sense it, snickering - rather evilly, his Childe decided - against the small, hard nub of flesh.

His Sire’s lips gave way to his tongue, then his teeth, continuing to torment his nipple while Angelus’ hips rocked against him in teeny, tiny movements, barely rubbing their shafts together. William whimpered and sighed and nearly bit his lip through in an attempt not to squirm.

Angelus chuckled again, finally leaving behind the bruised flesh, darting up to lick greedily at William’s bitten lip, chasing every scant drop of blood from his mouth and his skin. The motion of his hips became just a bit firmer as he leisurely explored the depths of his Childe’s mouth, making William glad he didn’t have to breathe.

He would have suffocated twice over by the time his Sire moved on.

The big hands finally left his hips, but not to touch his erection like he desperately wanted. One slid back between his thighs to start rubbing at his entrance, touching him more roughly than the night before but not enough to hurt. The other skated teasing fingertips over his side and stomach, tracing his abs and his ribs until it reached the nipple that Angelus had tortured a moment ago. Calloused fingers closed on the small nub, tugging, squeezing and rolling it.

William’s whimpers became whines.

Angelus chuckled, and his mouth slid off his Childe’s chin to begin worrying at the neglected nipple, teasing it into a peak that matched the other, even nipping at it carefully with his fangs.

Whines turned into wails.

The ivory fangs slid into the skin around the nipple even as Angelus smirked. He took a brief sip of his Childe’s succulent blood before moving his mouth back to the other nipple - the one his fingers had never stopped petting.

William groaned as those lips closed around it again, jolts of half-pain, half-pleasure searing through that side of his chest and straight down to his groin. "...ssssiii..." he whispered, not quite able to get the word out.

"You’re mine," was Angelus’ growled reply, the sound vibrating maddeningly against his skin.

William shook, his toes curling up tight as he tried not to climax at the tremors against his over-sensitive flesh.

Angelus laughed, and his fingers shifted to close tightly around the base of his boy’s shaft, preventing him from orgasm and wringing another pretty wail from between those soft lips.

The hand between William’s legs left suddenly, and he heard the slight ‘snick’ of a bottle being opened. Then the fingers returned, slick and wet, and two pushed straight inside him. His back arched all on its own, his body unable to decide if it wanted to push those fingers out or pull them in deeper.

Angelus didn’t give him much time _to_ decide; those fingers went unerringly to his prostate and stroked it ruthlessly, over and over and over again while his teeth went back to tugging on the reddened, swollen nipple.

William gave up wailing and started screaming. He felt like his head was about to explode from the pleasure jolting through his body. His cock was weeping copious amounts of pre-come, wetting Angelus’ hand, but the tight grip that kept him from climaxing never loosened.

"Mine," his Sire whispered again, biting lightly at the little nipple.

"Y-yes, Sire, yours, siiiirreee..." William began to babble, yanking his wrists against the silk restraints. They would never hold him if he  _really_  wanted free, but he only used the amount of strength a human would have had, playing along with his Sire’s little game.

" _Only_  mine," Angelus snarled, and it began to dawn on William that there was something behind this, more than just his Sire’s usual sort of pleasurable torture.

He blinked his blue eyes rapidly, willing his brain to fit back together.

It wasn’t easy; Angelus’ mouth was still persecuting his poor innocent nub and that other hand had three fingers inside him now, and the fourth was teasing at him, ready to push in.

‘ _Think, think..._ ’

Why would his Sire be worried or angry about William being with someone else? He hadn’t so much as looked at anyone besides Xander, and that hadn’t been sexually. He hadn’t been aroused, Xander hadn’t been aroused... Riley Finn had been a little aroused, but he usually was when Buffy was in the same building. Surely Angelus would realize that?

The fourth finger worked its way inside and William lost his train of thought for a moment, his hips thrusting helplessly at the sensation.

Let’s see - who else was there - the Watcher and the Witches but he hadn’t noticed any arousal on them - not that he’d been paying much attention, so a slight amount might have slipped by him -

Oh, wait - Ian! That was it, Idiot Ian! He’d forgotten all about that stupid moron!

And only another Master would make his Sire  _this_  determined to put his Claim on William’s body and mind as well as his neck!

"Sire..." he forced his mouth to start working, even as Angelus pulled his fingers out and swiftly shifted, impaling him with one fierce thrust of his hips. "Oh... Sire....! I - I’m yours... only yours..."

Maybe if he said it enough, Angelus would let him come?

A vampire could only hope...

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Wesley sighed as another unearthly howl echoed through the house.

"You know," he said to Cordelia, who was staring at the ceiling with a cross between interest and horror on her face, "I’ve got the strangest feeling of deja vu - that I’ve sat through a night of this before..."

"Just your imagination," she replied absently, still gazing up.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Wesley said uncertainly, and then turned back to making himself a cup of tea.

 

 

*

 

 

"Sire?" William’s tone was begging by now.

Angelus still just growled at him, his hips pounding hard against him.

His hand was back around his Childe’s aching shaft, once again making sure he wasn’t going to come.

"Please?"

"No." Just the one word, ‘no.’

Along with a very evil, fanged smile.

William nearly screamed.

Then the fangs plunged back into his throat, and he  _did_  scream, a desperate, eerie howl that put his earlier efforts to shame.

"My Childe," Angelus whispered, his voice muffled and distorted since he had a mouthful of blood, "only mine.  _Only_  mine!"

"O...only..." William tried to answer him, but between the ecstasy of that bite and the erotic sensation of blood being pulled from his veins and the hard thrust of Angelus’ cock against his prostate, it was surprising that his voice worked at all.

Angelus lifted his head, licking up the blood that had run down the corners of his mouth, and slammed his lips down on William’s, forcing his tongue into his mouth and sharing the taste.

At the same moment, his hand finally -  _finally_  - let go of his Childe’s shaft and gave it one hard stroke.

William recognized his permission for what it was, and he climaxed so hard he thought he was dying - again.

Angelus gave a throaty purr of delight as the muscles around his cock rippled with the force of his boy’s orgasm. "Perfect," he whispered, his own seed leaving him in a burst of ecstasy, but the fierce thrusting of his hips never stopped.

William came down off his orgasmic high a few moments later, to find his Sire still hard, still slamming into him, still raking his prostate with every thrust. His body immediately began to respond, blood rushing back into his groin. "Sire?"

"You didn’t think it was over with just  _one_  climax, did you?" Angelus asked sweetly, smiling down at him.

"Oh," William’s eyes went huge.

"We’ve got  _all_  night, after all," Angelus said, and his chocolate-colored eyes turned down to look at the bruised, swollen nipple he’d been torturing earlier.

William squirmed slightly, "uh, Sire..."

He got another very evil grin, then the tip of Angelus’ tongue was just barely tracing his over-sensitive nub even as the hard thrusts grew impossibly harder.

William groaned.

It was going to be a  _very_  long night.

Well, he’d just have to put up with it... it wasn’t like he could go anywhere.

Wasn’t like he could get away.

Wasn’t like he’d ever dream of trying!

He moaned again as the delicate licks became slightly firmer kisses, and settled back to enjoy himself. It was going to be hard, but someone had to do it...

 

 

*

 

 

"Angel?" Wesley knocked hesitantly at the door, shifting his feet a little. He was carrying a tray, on which sat two large mugs of just-heated blood. "Angel, I’ve got some blood for you. Can I come in?"

There was a faint rustle from inside the room, then Angelus’ voice, rough with sleep. "Yeah, c’mon..." it drawled.

Wesley eased open the door, surprised by the sudden scent of fresh air. He looked quickly at the window, and saw that it was open, curtains fluttering in the afternoon breeze. A large, solid folding screen had been set up in front of it, thoroughly blocking any sunlight from reaching the bed.

Angelus was curled up under a thin blanket, both arms cradling William to his chest. The younger vampire was asleep, looking more exhausted than Wesley had ever seen a vampire look, his mouth pressed tight against Angelus’ skin.

It took him a moment to realize that William’s fangs were buried in the smooth skin around Angelus’ nipple, nursing against his Sire’s chest like a baby with its mother.

For some reason, Wesley felt himself blushing.

"Um, here’s your food," he said, setting the tray down within easy reach. "We - we got Spike’s things, and Xander is downstairs. H-he wants to talk to you, when he can."

"Has he decided?" Angelus asked, reaching for the first mug and gulping down its contents.

"He hasn’t said."

Angelus grumbled, a little unhappy over that. "He knows he can trust you?"

"I hope so, but I’m not sure. I don’t know if William told him I was Blood-Bound to you - providing William knows?"

"Yes - I told him about you and Fred."

"Oh, good. I don’t know if Xander knows yet?"

"Neither do I. I’m not going to wake William to ask; he’s had a long night."

Wesley blushed, and Angelus smirked at him.

"I’ll wake him at sunset; tell Xander he’s more than welcome to stay. He can play the games I had you pick up for William. Get him some food, and some for yourselves - some takeout. Something healthy; I do know the boy has lousy eating habits. His parents pretty much left him to fend for himself. I think he grew up on doughnuts and pizza."

Wesley made a face. "I’ll order salad and sandwiches from that little restaurant down the street."

"Good. Come back in a few hours, all right? I’ll be up, and William probably will be. Thank you for the blood."

Wesley nodded, still a little red, and quickly left the room.

William stirred slightly, and laughed. "He’s easily shocked, isn’t he?" he mumbled.

Angelus stroked his Childe’s curly hair gently. "He’ll get over it. Go back to sleep, Little One. You have to be tired."

"You can certainly say  _that_  again," William muttered, but obeyed. He went back to slow, instinctive nursing, his body going into the still vampiric sleep.

Angelus finished off the first mug and promptly reached for the second. They were good-sized mugs; he had been sure Wesley would realize that since he was feeding his Childe, he was going to need more food than usual. It had been a good idea to make the man his Steward. An excellent choice.

Blood-Bound human Stewards were rare in the Aurelius clan, but not all that uncommon in other vampire groups. They had the advantage of being able to conduct business in the daylight, and being able to offer their own blood in an emergency. Many vampires considered it a status symbol to have such a trustworthy human trusting  _them_ enough to allow the Bond.

When word got around the demon population that Angelus' subclan in the Aurelius order had not only a human Steward, but that his favored Childe had a human Guardian, their status would skyrocket.

It might even draw Penn back to him - he could only hope.

His first Childe was a full Master in his own right, with the powers and privileges that went with it; he was also an old Master, much older than Spike and Drusilla. Having Penn back under his care and command would be another huge boost to his status.

And he missed his Childe.

With the ache Drusilla’s passing had left in his heart, he found himself longing for Penn more than he had in years.

And with William in his arms? Every protective Sire instinct in him had been roused.

He wanted his Childer.

All his Childer... he thought suddenly of a young sailor, turned on a submarine, and wondered what had happened to him. What was his name? L-something. Lawson, that was it. He looked down at William, stroked his curls gently back from his forehead. He’d sent Lawson with Spike, knowing he himself, still completely Angel, was too conflicted to raise a new Childe properly.

Spike, for all his blunt manner and tough talk, had a deep-seated sense of family. He wouldn’t have left his new little brother to fend for himself.

He’d have to ask him where the boy was - after William woke.

Angelus yawned and snuggled back down into the soft bed, clutching the slim form of his sweet William closer.

The last thought that went through his head before he once more fell asleep was to wonder again how in the world he’d ever given this up...

 

 

*

 

 

"Xander?"

The voice made the boy jump - he dropped the game controller and stared up at his friend. "Oh, hey, Willow, I didn’t know you were here!"

"I just got here," she said, sitting down beside him on the floor and fiddling with the hem of her long skirt. "Xander - have you decided what you’re going to do yet?"

"Um... well, not exactly..." Xander said, flushing a little. "I wanna talk to Angel and Spike some more, but they’re still asleep..."

"Oh," she said. "So, what? you might go?"

"I might," he admitted, wincing slightly as her lip wobbled. "I mean, I’m going nowhere here, Wills. Dead end jobs, no education higher than a high-school diploma. I don’t wanna end up like my dad, working my way up to manager of a warehouse after twenty years, sitting on my fat butt in front of the television every evening and yelling at my wife and kiddies to be quiet ‘cause I can’t hear."

"Oh, Xander, you wouldn’t be like that!"

He frowned. "I bet if you went back thirty years and asked my dad, he’d say  _he_  wasn’t going to be like that, either."

"But Xander..." she started, only to close her lips tightly as Wesley entered the room.

The ex-Watcher raised an eyebrow when he saw her, but made no comment. Instead, he just set a tray on the low table at Xander’s elbow, and the sight of a salad with ham and egg and bits of cheese, sitting demurely beside a plate of hot roast-beef sandwiches, nearly made Xander’s tongue hang out.

"I was sure you were getting hungry," Wesley said in his precise, rather dry manner that was so much like Giles and yet with the faintest bit of genuine kindness in it that made all the difference. "Cordelia, Fred and I are eating in the kitchen, but I thought you would want to finish your game."

"Hey, thanks, Wesley!" Xander said, grinning happily and deciding that he needed to work on a nickname for the man. Then he paused. "Cordy and Fred? Where’s Gunn?"

"Trying to spy out Ian’s lair. He’s well protected, and the sun’s not down yet, so he’ll be fine."

"Oh, okay. That’s cool. I’d have gone with him if he asked, though."

"I’m sure you would have," Wesley said, and once again Xander was struck by the fact that there was no sarcasm or indulgence in his tone, "but he wasn’t sure when he’d be back, and Angel wants to speak to you when he wakes."

"Oh," Xander said, then zeroed in on the food.

Wesley finally decided to notice Willow’s existence. "Ms. Rosenburg - I didn’t know you were here. Would you like something to eat? I’m sure we have enough."

"No, I ate before I came," she said, half shy and half defiant.

Wesley just nodded, and removed himself from the room.

 

 

*

 

 

Angelus blinked back to awareness, and the first thing he realized was that his arms were empty.

"William?" he called, and frowned when there was no answer.

He got up, stretching slightly, then investigated the bathroom, wondering if his Childe was indulging in a hot bath.

The room was empty, slightly steamy from a shower, with damp towels placed neatly in a basket, something Spike would never have done.

Angelus smiled. That was William, not Spike - interesting how the two distinctly different personalities were meshing. Things only Spike would say were cropping up in William’s speech; things only William would do were showing up in Spike’s behavior.

He walked back into the bedroom, to be met with the pretty sight of William’s backside, clad in his own silk pajama bottoms, as the boy rooted through one of his trunks.

A trunk that hadn’t been there when he’d left the room not two minutes ago.

"Retrieving your luggage?" he asked, giving that arse a playful pat.

William straightened and grinned at him. "Got to have some clothes, Sire. Your’s are all too big." He tugged at the loose waistband of the pants, nearly causing them to slip off.

"That’s not altogether a bad thing," his Sire purred at him, folding his arms around him and smiling when his hands were able to slip easily into the waistband and cup William’s rear.

"No, it isn’t," his boy agreed rather breathlessly, squirming against him in an absolutely shameless manner that Angelus had always loved.

"Mmm... so, the humans are all downstairs?"

"Yes, and Xander’s here," William told him, still sounding very breathless and young. "I was going to get dressed and then go pounce him."

"And we have to see about pounding Ian into the ground, too," Angelus said, squeezing his luscious handfuls just a bit harder, "but I have something else to do first."

"Hmm?" William gave him a rather adorable look from under his eyelashes.

"Yes - I have to go take a shower." He let go of his boy abruptly, pulling his hands out of the silk pajamas and stepping away.

William’s outraged pout made him snicker; he promptly picked his Childe up and flung him over his shoulder, patting that tempting rear again. "Of course, I’ve always hated showering alone," he remarked, striding toward the bathroom.

"I’ve had a shower," William informed him, snickering in spite of himself.

"It never hurts to have an extra one," Angelus said solemnly, "and besides, by the time I’m through with you, you’re going to need it."

"Oh," William said, "that’s all right, then."

Angelus laughed, and kicked the bathroom door shut behind them.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI about Wesley thinking he'd heard that before - it was a joke at the time because I had posted a chapter of a different Spike story on a few days earlier, in which he'd ALSO been subjected to howling :D


	11. Chapter 11

"Xander," Willow said softly as he finished off the last bite of his sandwiches and started to pick up the game controller again, "I really think that it’s all a bad idea."

Xander tried not to sigh. Willow had been very quiet while he was eating; he’d known she was thinking things over, but he’d hoped she had accepted some of his reasons and come to a different conclusion.

"Wils," he said, holding the controller so he’d have something to do with his hands, without actually starting the game back up, "I know that you’re worried, but..."

"Xander!" A familiar voice shouted, and he suddenly found himself with a lapful of laughing, denim-clad vampire. "You’re here earlier than I thought you’d be."

"And you’re up later than I thought  _you’d_  be," Xander said, grinning down at William. "What’s up with that? You always used to have too much energy to just lay around in bed?"

"Ha! I’ve been up for over an hour," William replied, removing himself from Xander’s lap to sit on the floor beside him, snagging the controller out of his hands.

"Then where have you - uh, never mind." Xander started to ask where he’d been, but about that time Angel came down the stairs, still running his fingers through damp hair and with a certain satisfied look on his face that told Xander everything he needed to know.

"Hello, Xander, Willow," Angelus nodded at them politely. "William, what are you doing?"

"Stealing Xander’s game," the younger vampire replied promptly.

"Hey!" the human boy protested, diving for the controller and trying to wrestle it away from him. "No fair, Spike! I’ve been playing for  _hours_  to get that far!"

"But your player is unhappy!" William laughed, tucking the controller against his stomach and turning his back. "His wife left him while you were busy eating! He wants to commit suicide now!"

"Spike!!!" Xander yelled, yanking him flat on the floor and grabbing the controller.

William was laughing too hard to stop him. "He’s depressed! Manic depression! His dog got run over! His car was vandalized and spray painted with smiley faces! His boss fired him! The bank stole his savings! He has a gun! He just wants it to be over!"

"Spike, that’s not funny!" Xander protested, but he was grinning widely.

"It’s really not," Willow looked rather horrified. "You shouldn’t tease about things like that, Spike."

"All right, all right," William grumbled, his good humor fading.

"So," Xander carefully saved his game and then turned off the television and game box. "What are you - we - whatever - doing tonight? Getting rid of Ian?"

"Most definitely," Angelus growled, his eyes flashing gold again.

"I dunno, maybe we should leave him around for one more night," William said, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "He has his uses."

"William," his Sire said warningly, although his eyes lit up with amusement, "I can and will spank you for that."

"Promise?" William asked cheekily, making Xander snort and Willow gasp.

Angelus just laughed. "Where is Wesley?" he asked, taking pity on a wide-eyed, shocked looking Willow and changing the subject. Really, the girl had a lover of her own; she shouldn’t be so surprised by William’s teasing.

"He was in the kitchen with Cordy and Fred," Xander said. "They were having dinner."

"And Gunn?"

"Charles is out scouting for Ian’s location," Wesley said, entering the room since he’d heard Angelus ask for him.

"Is he checking old houses and cemeteries?" William asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, next to his Sire. "‘Cause he thinks he’s Dracula, I swear. He wears a cape even inside and calls any humans he can keep ‘Renfield.’"

"Exactly how well do you know him?" Angelus asked, feeling the same jealousy from the night before swelling up in his chest. Damn it all, William washis,  _Spike_  was his; he wasn’t going to allow another Master to even think about him! If he’d known Ian was sniffing after his pretty young Childe, he would have staked him for it even when he’d still been completely Angel.

"Drusilla and I stayed with the Harrovian clan for a couple of years after Darla finally got tired of us," William said easily. "That was when Valdor was still their High Master, before that little red-haired Slayer from Belgium staked him. Ian was his Third or Fourth Childe, I don’t remember which. He was such a pain in the arse, though. Even Dru hated him. And when that movie with Bela Lugosi as Dracula came out, he just got worse."

"You weren’t  _still_  staying with them?" Angelus asked sharply. Darla had left his Childer in Amsterdam about ten years after he had gotten his soul; the movie William was talking about hadn’t come out for decades after that.

"No, but all kinds of vampires went to see that when it first started playing," William said, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "It was like the comedy of the century for us! Except Ian didn’t get it, he thought everyone was going to see it because they admired Dracula, so he started dressing that way. He even talked like him for a little while."

"Moron," Xander said decisively.

"Yeah," William nodded, leaning over to rest against his Sire’s sturdy shoulder. "The only time he stopped being Dracula was when Anne Rice first starting publishing those vampire books. He was pretending to be Lestat for a while until other Masters started pounding him just on principal. Then he went back to being Dracula."

Angelus felt like his blood was about to start boiling. "William," he said, fighting to keep his voice calm, "how do you know he was acting like Lestat if you only stayed with them for a few years? There’s quite a gap between the Lugosi Dracula movie and Anne Rice’s novels."

"Yes, but we saw him in - hmm, I think it was Paris. Or was it somewhere in Germany? Anyway, he was all dressed up like that poof and Drusilla thought it was ‘lovely’, until she realized who he was."

"Who he was as in, it was Lestat, or it was Ian?" asked Wesley, who was actually scribbling some notes in a small book.

"As in Ian. She liked Lestat, though she said he ‘did things wrong.’ I don’t think she quite grasped the idea that it was make-believe; a novel. Like I said, though, even  _she_  couldn’t stand Ian. He’s such a pompous arse."

Angelus felt a bit - a very little bit - of the jealousy ease. William obviously despised Ian, so the other Master wouldn’t have had much of a chance with him. Still, Ian  _had_  wanted him, and William had been just barely over his fledgling years, and far from being a Master, when Darla had so ruthlessly abandoned them, without even the excuse of a soul to pardon her behavior. Even in the vampire world, for a GrandSire to leave ‘orphaned’ GrandChilder behind like that was considered a crime - it was no surprise at all that so little fuss had been made when he staked her. Staking one’s Sire was usually a serious matter, but he had barely heard an echo of protest from the Aurelius clan.

His further thoughts were interrupted when the front door opened and Gunn came in.

"Did you find him?" Wesley asked, tucking his little book back into a shirt pocket.

"Yeah," Gunn said, grinning at him, "he’s hanging out in some old house that looks like it came from a horror movie set."

"See?" William asked, talking to no one in particular.

"Could you tell how many minions he has?" Angelus asked.

"Probably two dozen," Gunn replied, slumping in a chair and happily accepting the sandwich and coffee that Fred, blushing shyly, brought him. "I think maybe he’s got another Master or one of his own kids with him. There was a different vamp givin’ the minions orders."

"What did they look like?" William asked.

"Was a tall guy, blond hair, pretty big," Gunn replied, pausing to take a bite of his sandwich. He chewed and swallowed before continuing. "Hair cut short, and was wearing old-fashioned clothes."

"All of Ian’s Childer do until they get away from him," William said. "The ones that don’t go nuts, anyway. He’s a terrible Sire. Valdor used to beat him for it, but he never learned how to take care of them properly. I  _think_  that the one Gunn saw is actually his Brother. If it is, his name is Hunter and he’s younger than Ian, but twice as smart."

"I take it you know him well?" Angelus’ voice had a deep rumble to it that William didn’t understand until he looked into his Sire’s eyes.

And saw that jealousy gazing back at him again.

For a moment, he was tempted to play on that jealousy, feed it and get another night like the night before - but he found himself sadly unable to do it. He couldn’t leave his Sire that upset, even though the part of him that was still Spike howled with glee that he  _could_  have done it.

"Pretty well, yes. He was absolutely nutters over Drusilla - he followed her everywhere and was always asking me questions about what she liked and what he could bring her and if she ever mentioned him."

"Ah - he wanted Drusilla? How did she react?" The question was casual, like Angelus was just asking it for the sake of looking interested.

William was  _almost_  sure he saw relief in his Sire’s eyes, but he wouldn’t have mentioned it for worlds. "She was too busy getting the Harrovian seamstress - Valdor had turned one as a Childe specifically for her talents with a needle - to make new clothes for Miss Edith. She never noticed Hunter at all. She was obsessed over lace and silk and velvet."

"I can imagine," Angelus was amused, remembering the way his Daughter obsessed over that doll with a fondness that he had rarely felt when she was alive. He’d found it much more irritating than amusing, then. "So, this Hunter - is he a Master?"

William nodded. "Barely - Ian keeps a pretty firm control over him. He knows if he let Hunter reach his full potential, then he’d lose his place as High Master of the Harrovians. The others would all put their support behind Hunter - he’s got a brain, and is less willing to throw everyone into battles they can’t hope to win. Ian never thinks about consequences."

"Obviously," Angelus growled, then got up. "Enough talking. Let’s go take care of him. Maybe Hunter  _will_  be the High Master - before the night’s out."

 

 

*

 

 

" _This_  is where he’s staying?!" Xander stared up at the house, his eyes wide.

"I told you," William shrugged, beside him.

The run-down mansion sat atop one of the few small hills in Sunnydale - with its tower, wrap-around porch, balconies and gables, it looked for all the world like the haunted house on the intro to the old ‘Scooby Doo’ cartoons. Xander had even taken a picture of it once, had it framed and hung on his bedroom wall.

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

William laughed. "You wait until we’re inside - he’ll have spiderwebs and old pictures and run down furniture and all."

"Wish I’d brought my camera."

"Wesley’ll take pictures for you, if you ask him."

"Think so?"

"Yeah, he’s got one of those cell phones with a camera in it."

"Those things are cool!"

"Will you two shut up?" Buffy asked, glaring at them. She hadn’t been invited along, but Giles had known what Angel was planning for tonight and was determined not to miss seeing two Masters fight again. He’d brought Buffy and Willow with him without even telling Angelus he was coming - a fact which didn’t exactly please the vampire.

"Don’t have to," William replied, contemplating sticking his tongue out at her and dismissing the idea as childish. Fun, but childish.

"You’re going to give us away," she hissed, "they’ll hear you and know we’re here!"

"They already know we’re here," Angelus broke in on the conversation. "They’re vampires; they sensed us and they sensed you while we were all still two blocks away. They should be sending out an emissary any time now."

"So we’ve lost any chance to sneak up on them?" Buffy asked, looking distinctly put out.

"Sneaking up on them was never part of the plan, anyway," her ex replied cooly. "You might have known that, if your Watcher had bothered to ask."

"Why didn’t you just tell him?" she shot back, determined not to be outdone.

"Why should I? He’s not part of my plan."

"Angel," Wesley’s voice interrupted, "here comes your emissary."

He jerked around to see a tall, lean blond vampire, dressed in what looked like Victorian-era clothing, come strolling out of the mansion and start on his way down the hill, flanked by a half-dozen minions.

"William? Is that...?"

"That’s Hunter," William nodded, moving over to stand on his Sire’s right side. "Ian’s Brother and Second-in-Command."

Angelus moved his feet slightly and something - some vague, intangible shift in his attitude - had all the humans blinking at him. He went from being calm, quiet, self-assured Angel to a being that absolutely radiated power and menace.

Beside him, William smiled. His Sire was going to show Angelus off - this ought to be fun.

Hunter stopped when he was about ten feet away. "Angelus of Aurelius," he said politely, inclining his head.

"Hunter of Harrovian," Angelus replied, his voice just as polite.

"And William," Hunter turned his attention to the smaller vampire. "I never thought to see you here! Ian told me some garbled story of Elsa and a spell, but I’m afraid most of it was beyond me. I’m pleased to see you, though a bit confused." His eyes shifted over the group. "Is Drusilla not with you?"

"No," Angelus replied for his Childe, putting a possessive arm around his boy’s shoulders. He remembered that this vampire had been enamored of Drusilla, so he chose not to abruptly blurt out the story of her death. "She is not with us now."

"Ah, too bad." Hunter looked distinctly disappointed. "I would have enjoyed seeing her again. Such a charming vampiress. Still, it’s quite nice to see William, and meet his Sire."

Angelus spared a glare for Buffy, who was shifting with impatience during this polite exchange. He hoped the Slayer would control herself; he hadn’t invited her, but Hunter didn’t know that and any stupid mistake she made would be considered his fault. "We have come to discuss your Master’s presence here," he said, bypassing what would usually be more polite conversation and getting to the point before the girl exploded.

"I see," Hunter said, looking almost remorseful. "I’m afraid my Brother has plans for your little HellMouth, since he couldn’t Claim the Childe."

"Both of them are mine," Angelus snarled, tightening his arm around William, "and I will not tolerate any attempts to take either."

"I told him you would feel that way," Hunter said, sighing softly and giving Angelus a clear example of what William had meant, that Hunter had brains and Ian didn’t. It was obvious that this vampire knew there was about to be major trouble.

"Too bad you couldn’t convince him," Angelus deliberately allowed his voice to sound bored - because he had caught a glimpse of Ian and the rest of the minions moving through the shadows of a side garden, apparently trying to surprise them by appearing out of nowhere. "Now I have the irritation of a second-rate Master to deal with."

"Who are you calling second-rate?" Ian spat angrily, jumping out of the garden and succeeding in making some of the humans jump.

William and Angelus didn’t even flinch.

"You, of course - didn’t you understand me the first time? I’ve already beat your head into the ground once, and the Slayer knocked you half a block down the street after I left with my Childe."

"That wasn’t fair," Ian said hotly, "Elsa shouldn’t have pulled the Rules on us like that! I should have been able to have a fight with you in front of the Childe, and shown him I was well able to protect him!"

"You still want to Claim him," Angelus growled, his eyes lighting up with fury. He pushed William gently away from him, toward Xander and Wesley. "This isn’t about the HellMouth; you really just want my William."

"I  _deserve_  to be able to Claim that Childe - my minions found him first, and he never got the chance to properly consider my offer before you were gnawing a mark into his neck! Do you know how high my ranking in our society will go if I have a Childe that lovely by my side?"

"He _refused_ your offer when he accepted mine, and much of the fighting would have been moot, since I happen to have been the one to turn him, in the first place!" Angelus snarled. "You do realize that if you persist in this, you’ll be declared a Lore-Breaker and cast out of the society you so obviously wish to impress?!"

"I won’t be a Lore-Breaker if I can Claim that boy correctly," Ian nearly purred his reply, "and I can do that freely when he’s an abandoned fledge - and he will be - just as soon as you are dead."

 


	12. Chapter 12

All the humans looked worried. Buffy shifted her stance and opened her mouth, probably prepared to threaten Ian.

Angelus forestalled her by laughing.

Not hysterically, or sarcastically - more like an adult laughs when a small child tells a joke they’ve heard before. It was almost polite laughter.

It made Ian furious.

"What?! Don’t you think I can do it?"

"Do I have to remind you - again - that I’ve already beaten you?" Angelus sneered faintly as he looked at him. "You’re a second-rate Master and you always have been."

"I’m going to make sure you die  _slowly_ ," Ian growled, his face darkening with rage in a way that a vampire’s face shouldn’t be able to do.

Angelus heaved a sigh. "Again, how? You didn’t before, what makes you think you can do it this time?"

Ian smirked. "Perhaps I wasn’t fighting at my best, then. Maybe I’m better prepared this time around."

Angelus’ features didn’t change, but inside, he tensed. He sniffed the air so lightly that even the vampires couldn’t tell he was doing it - and detected the faint, lingering trace of magic.

Ian really  _was_  better prepared - it wasn’t just a bluff. He’d done something - had someone in his little clan cast a spell or cast it on his own. Angelus knew he’d have to be on his guard until he could figure out exactly what the spell was.

He was beginning to understand why Spike - William - had always hated magic so much.

"I don’t care what preparations you’ve made," he said slowly, making a gesture behind his back, toward Wesley, that was known only to his Steward. It meant ‘magic-use’, and was the man’s cue to start working up general counter-spells until they could figure out the specific one needed. "It doesn’t matter. You could turn yourself into a Marlok demon and you’d still be incompetent enough for a fledgling minion to kill."

"Why... you..." Ian sputtered for a second, then howled and flung a hand toward Angelus.

Light erupted from the ends of his fingers - burning, yellow light with the unmistakable scent of the sun.

Angelus dove sideways even as Wesley cast a blocking spell, causing the beam of light to ricochet off to the right, handily taking out two of Ian’s minions. The rest of them stared, astonished and horrified, then starting running for cover as Ian continued throwing bolts of light at Wesley’s ‘shield’.

It was proof of how well the man’s magic had improved, that every beam aimed at Angelus just bent and shot back into Ian’s garden.

If he kept this up, the vampire was going to kill all his minions, his Brother,  _and_  himself without Angelus having to even bother.

"What an idiot," Angelus heard Xander say, and spared a quick glance over, to see the boy standing in front of William, blocking him from any possible stray rays of sunlight. The shorter vampire was standing on his tiptoes in order to peer over the boy’s broad shoulder.

"Think he’ll give up soon?" he heard William ask.

"Nah, I think he’s too stupid."

"I think you’re right."

Angelus grinned and turned his attention back to Ian, who’s magical strength seemed to be waning, as the bolts became dimmer and even less accurate. The Aurelian vampire gathered himself for an attack, knowing that his moment of opportunity was fast approaching.

Ian realized it too, and ducked behind Hunter, sending another, even weaker, beam aimed lower than the rest, like he was trying to shoot it under Wesley’s blocking spell.

Instead, it grazed the side of Hunter’s leg, making him howl, making the old-fashioned trousers he was wearing catch on fire. The tall blond vampire immediately threw himself to the ground and began rolling, putting the flames out before he crawled to the dubious safety of the shadows, dragging an injured, burnt leg behind him.

The removal of Ian’s strongest ally was the last straw for the disheartened minions - they had lost over half their number by now, and Hunter was the Master who took care of them, not Ian. Their loyalty was to him, and to Ian by proxy, since Hunter observed the Old Ways and obeyed the leader of his Clan.

Now they abandoned Ian, most running for the house while a few gathered up their injured Master and followed, ignoring Ian’s shrieked demands that they return.

"Pathetic," Angelus smirked, baiting the other Master, "you can’t even control your Minions. You should just turn your Clan over to Hunter and stake yourself."

Ian growled, dropping the slightest pretense of an elegant vampire. He morphed into his true face and threw himself at Angelus, who jumped right back at him.

The two Masters bit and clawed like animals, their eerie cries of challenge making the watching humans wince, making everyone within hearing distance check their locks before cowering in the dark, wondering if some wild creatures had escaped from captivity and were stalking through their little town.

 

 

*

 

 

William watched, wide-eyed, as his Sire and the Harrovian Master rolled on the ground, Angelus’ claws gouging out gory furrows in Ian’s chest and sides, while the other vampire’s fangs sliced into Angelus’ arm, into his neck and his jaw. It was bloody and gruesome and ugly to watch.

The humans looked ill.

William thought it was beautiful.

He’d seen fights like this before - he’d participated in fights like this before, when some vampire became fascinated with Drusilla’s faux-innocence and tried to take her away from him.

But he’d never been fought over by two Masters, not to the point that they let their demons have almost full control. He’d never been the prize in a battle like this.

Not even when he’d been a Fledge, and his Sire had been jealous of him. Angelus had been so strong in those days, and with Penn not too far away, and Darla, powerful in her own right, still with them - well, other Masters had admired him, admired Drusilla, but none had been stupid enough or brave enough to challenge the great Angelus for either of them.

And then after their Sire had left, Darla had no objections to any Master taking them away for a night or two, in exchange for some favors, until she’d grown tired of Drusilla’s wailing for her ‘Daddy’ and William’s moody, angry outbursts, and had taken herself and Penn away to parts unknown. Penn hadn’t wanted to go, but Darla was now his default Sire, so he’d had no choice.

Of course, Angelus had fought with Georges for him, but it hadn’t gone to this level - to this bloody, vicious, kill-or-be-killed struggle.

William watched, utterly silent and completely fascinated, as Angelus finally managed to get a submission hold on Ian’s throat, sinking his fangs in just beneath his jaw. One quick jerk of his head and the power in his own jaws could rip Ian’s throat out.

Ian knew when he was defeated - even in his deepest feral vampire mode, he didn’t want to die. He shuddered and lay still, tilting his head back and baring more of his throat in a clear sign of submission.

Angelus growled, shook him slightly, then released his hold and sat back. He licked the blood from his lips, then looked down at the blood streaking his arms and soaking his shirt. A quick swipe, and he tore the ruined silk from his body, revealing the bleeding gashes Ian had left.

Buffy gave a slight shriek of dismay, and she and the others started forward.

Angelus growled at them angrily, stopping them in their tracks.

"Angel," Giles spoke reasonably, "you need help. Even as fast as vampires heal, you..."

"Rupert, not now," Wesley said softly, herding the other humans from LA back, pulling Willow with them. "He knows what he needs, and it’s not  _our_  help."

"What do you mean?" Giles took the hint, shaking slightly under Angelus’ wild yellow gaze and tugging his Slayer back to a safer distance.

"You’ll see."

"William..." Angelus growled, ignoring the humans after they were at a more respectful length away, and turning his feral gaze on his prize. "William..." he tilted his head invitingly, gesturing to his still-bleeding neck and face.

His Childe moved forward almost in a daze, blue eyes fastened on the slowly dripping, thick vampire blood. He knelt by his Sire, who tilted his head even further, amber eyes burning as they watched him. William ducked his head submissively, then leaned forward and swiped his tongue from Angelus’ collarbone to his chin, cleaning a stripe of pale skin, his saliva starting the healing of the damage beneath the blood.

Angelus gave a contented rumble and pulled him closer, ignoring Ian, who had shakily crawled a few feet away.

William continued to clean his Sire, cat-like, licking the blood and nursing slightly at the wounds until they closed, sealing beneath his ministrations.

Angelus preened, clearly showing off his prize to the defeated Master and to the few minions who had dared to return, hovering around the edge of the garden. He slung an arm casually around William as the Childe worked, letting his fingers explore the strong, lean torso of his Boy, skimming along the low waistband of his jeans. His motions were sensual, and so were William’s, both vampires wrapped up in each other, both of them purring softly, just loud enough for the others to hear.

The humans fidgeted, some of them obviously uncomfortable at the display, some of them spellbound.

Buffy was staring in open fascination, her lips parted as she watched William’s pink tongue chasing the blood around Angelus’ pectoral muscles. Every time William swallowed, so did she.

Willow was only a little less fascinated, blushing hotly but not looking away. Xander wanted to leave, but wasn’t going to abandon his responsibility. Wesley felt much the same way. Giles looked like he wanted to take notes or run and couldn’t quite make up his mind. Gunn was the most polite of them all - he turned his back on the overtly sexual display and devoted himself to watching the lurking minions.

Ian stared, feeling jealousy and rage beginning to stir beneath his defeated appearance. That ought to be  _him_  sitting there, with that beautiful Childe attending to him, with the air of victory around him, with his hands on that slender body. It ought to be him showing off his prize, displaying him to the watching humans, to the staring minions.

He growled suddenly, making the humans flinch again, and gathered every last bit of strength in his body to dive forward, wrapping both arms around a startled William and rolling away with him. By all the gods, he had wanted this Childe for over a century, and he was damn well going to  _have_ him, even if it was for only one brief moment.

William yelped with surprise as the other Master’s lips came down forcibly on his, tongue thrusting in and stealing the mouthful of Angelus’ blood. He growled and shoved at the other vampire, hearing his Sire give a roar of outrage and then suddenly he wasn’t shoving against anything.

The hands he had against Ian’s shoulders were full of dust, not solid flesh.

Angelus stood over him, still holding the piece of broken branch he’d used to skewer the Master of the Harrovian clan. "Pitiful," he growled, kicking at the pile of dust Ian had left behind. He tossed the branch aside, snarling down at William, reaching to yank him to his feet. Big hands immediately began brushing the dust off of him, like Angelus didn’t even want that much of Ian touching him.

That was all right with William. He didn’t want Ian’s dust on him, either.

"You killed him," a startled voice spoke behind him, and Angelus was sweeping William into a possessive embrace as he turned on Hunter.

The tall blond vampire was leaning against a minion as he stared at the pile of dust on the ground. "He’s gone... you killed him."

"Shall I kill you, next?" Angelus growled, his whole body strumming with anger over the insult of Ian snatching his Boy from him. It didn’t matter that the other Master was dust now; Angelus was furious enough to want to resurrect him and kill him all over again.

"I desire no war with the Clan of Aurelius," Hunter said quickly, formally, realizing that  _he_  was Master of the Harrovian clan now. "I have no complaints against you; we wish for peace between us."

All his minions were nodding wildly.

"You call a truce, then?" Angelus asked, some of the yellow fading from his eyes.

Hunter nodded.

"So be it. You will take your Clan away from here as soon as you are healed."

"Agreed."

"And you will not feed on innocents while you stay."

"Agreed."

"No humans at all!" Buffy said sharply, gripping her stake as she stepped forward. All her Slayer instincts were screaming at her to take out this powerful vampire while he was wounded and vulnerable.

"I do not hold truce with you," Hunter said, not looking at her. "We will feed off of your criminals, Angelus, and no others."

"Very well."

"Angel!"

"Don’t argue, Buffy," Wesley advised, stepping closer. "It’s unheard of, for them to even agree to that much. And I doubt they’ll stay here for more than one more night, even if their Master is injured. No vampires want to stay around Angelus while he’s this angry, truce or no truce."

"But... I can’t just agree to let them eat humans, even if they are the bad humans! ‘No killing humans’, that’s the code, remember?"

"Do you really wish to fight it out with them?" Angelus growled at her, approaching them, dragging a completely willing William along behind him. "Hunter is a Master, even if he has a mild injury, and his minions won’t run from helping him the way they ran from Ian. I think it’s best if you just come back with us. We have things to discuss about the HellMouth."

"But..." Buffy looked back at the garden, only to find it empty. Hunter and his minions were gone, and the run-down house _looked_  deserted now, whether it really was or not. When she turned back to argue with Angelus, the vampire was already half a block down the street, William, Xander, and his friends from LA all with him. She looked at Giles and Willow - both of whom looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here - and then hurried after them.

 

 

*

 

 

"So, Xander," Angelus sounded as calm and controlled as if he hadn’t shaken off his ‘game face’ no more than ten seconds ago, "have you made your decision? Will you move to LA or are you staying here?"

Xander looked at Angelus, then at William’s hopeful expression. "I - I’m going with you guys."

William’s smile nearly blinded him.

Willow’s howl nearly deafened him. "Xander! You  _can’t_!"

"Why not?" he asked, trying to stay calm and not sound whiny. "C’mon, Willow, I’ll have a future there!"

"You have a purpose  _here_ , you know," Buffy huffed, glaring at him.

"What? To die young while I’m out fetching donuts?" Xander was getting a little fed up of the girls who were in college and were making something of their lives trying to keep him as he was.

"That’s not nice," Willow said, her big green eyes tearing up. "You help us, you know you do!"

Xander just shook his head. "Only as an early warning system. You know, ‘look, Xander got knocked across the cemetery, must be something big over there! better go take care of it!’"

"Xander!"

"Oh, come on, Willow! Please don’t get upset! There are phones, you know, and we can visit each other all the time! It’ll give you the chance to go shopping in LA!" he wheedled.

Willow sniffled, but looked interested. "I... but, don’t you think you should take a  _little_  longer to think this through?"

"Quick decisions are not always the wisest ones," Giles put in.

"Besides, you need to pack your stuff," Buffy said, "you can’t go to LA with just the clothes on your back."

"It doesn’t take a week to pack a one-room basement apartment, you know," Xander said. "I got everything packed up this morning, before I went to Angel’s place. I got Gunn to drive his truck over to my parents house while Angel was going over the plan with Wesley, and we loaded it."

"It wasn’t a lot," Gunn said in a low voice to Angelus.

"We’ll fix that," was Angelus’ reply. He’d take his Boy and William’s Guardian shopping at the same time. He didn’t like the fact that all of William’s belongings fit in two trunks. He raised his voice so everyone could hear him. "So, we’re all ready to go, then? Good, we can leave when we get back to the mansion."

"But what about the rest of the Masters?!" Buffy shrieked.

Angelus winced. "Not so loud, please! There aren’t any more Masters here - I can’t sense a single one. You shouldn’t have anything more than the usual to worry about."

"What about your own packing?" she asked, clutching at any reason to keep them here just a little longer. She didn’t want Angel to leave, especially not with Xander.

And not without thinking of some way to get ‘William’ away from him! Spike couldn’t have Angel! He was her one true love!

"Fred and Cordelia will have taken care of that," was the calm reply.

"Oh... well, uh, what about..." she trailed off, trying to think of something else, some reason for them to put off their departure.

"We’re leaving," Angelus said, wrapping an arm around William’s shoulders and pulling him close to his side. "I want to show William his new home, and we need to get Xander settled in. There’s not much of the night left, you know. We’ll barely have a half-hour to show them around if we don’t leave right away."

They had come within sight of the mansion by now. Fred was loading suitcases into the trunk of Angelus’ car, while Cordelia had started Gunn’s truck.

"Hey, Angel! The place is locked up tight, and we’re ready to go!" the brunette called cheerfully.

"Giles!" Buffy hissed, "what are we going to do?! We can’t let Xander just  _go_ , and we can’t leave Spike to be an evil influence on Angel!"

"Actually, I was just thinking that we should," Giles said softly.

"What?!" Buffy and Willow yelped in chorus.

"Think about it - Xander tried to go on that driving trip, remember? And ended up spending the summer in Oxnard? Things rarely work out the way he expects. I think he’ll be calling us within a week to come and pick him up. And if Spike is _anything_  like he used to be, Angel will be ready to throw him out in the sun by then; we can just bring them both back with us."

"Oh..." Buffy thought it over for a moment, visibly brightening. "Yeah, you’re right! So we just let them make a mistake?"

"And learn from it," Willow nodded, trying to look wise. "It’ll be a nice trip for Xander, that’s all. He’ll get homesick for us really fast."

 

 

*

 

 

Wesley, who had overheard every word they were saying, rolled his eyes. He knew Angelus wouldn’t be getting tired of William any time soon - if ever. Hell, he knew that Angelus knew precisely what Spike was like, yet had discussed - several times - getting the younger vampire and bringing him to Los Angeles to help them out, instead of leaving him to the Scoobies tender mercies.

As for Xander, he might get homesick for his friends, but the Bond that would exist between he and William would be too strong for him to do more than go and visit. Like he’d already promised them, anyway.

Oh well. The remnants of the Scoobies would just have to find out that their ideas were wrong. He knew they would miss their friend - probably - but they’d get used to it.

They’d have to. Angelus, unlike Angel, didn’t let any of his family go. Not if he could possibly stop them.

He watched as Xander gave Willow and Buffy quick ‘good-bye’ hugs, and shook Giles’ hand. Then William practically stuffed him in the backseat of Angelus’ car, before running over to his Sire, tugging on his arm and whispering in his ear.

Gunn and Cordelia were getting in the truck. Wesley knew Fred preferred the car, so he opened the door for her and helped her into the backseat with Xander, then climbed in beside her, leaving the front seats for Angelus and William.

"What’s Spike doing?" Xander was frowning suspiciously, watching as Angelus grinned down at his Childe, who was obviously asking for something.

"I’m sure I have no idea," Wesley said, smiling at him as he got out the book he’d been reading. He wanted to make sure all his notes were still in their proper places - the streetlights would be strong enough for him to see until they left town.

Fred gave Xander a shy look. "Is he always... that excited?" William was bouncing slightly as he talked to Angelus, gesturing wildly.

"Yeah, pretty much. Hope you guys can deal with a hyperactive vampire."

Fred giggled, while Wesley just rolled his eyes. "It might be a change, at that."

Xander watched as Willow, Buffy and Giles walked off, sighing slightly as they turned the corner and vanished. He’d miss them, but this was something he felt he  _had_  to do. If things worked out the way he hoped, then they’d see that this was a good idea, and be happy for him.

If he was lucky. He usually wasn’t, but things  _had_  to change sooner or later. Didn’t they?

And even if he was wrong, he had to try. Nothing short of a _disaster_ was going to change his mind.

William finished whatever discussion he was having with Angelus, and headed for the car. "Sire said I could drive," he told them, giving them an innocent smile as he climbed in and started the vehicle.

"Oh," said Wesley, not looking up from his book.

"Sure," said Fred, watching as Angelus got into the passenger seat.

"I changed my mind!" Xander shrieked, clawing at the door handle.

William gave an evil laugh, then the tires screeched as he floored the gas and sped off into the night.

 

 

~finis~

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is completely written, but I am polishing the chapters as they are posted. So it may take a short while before you have the whole thing.


End file.
